Evergreen
by Niham
Summary: Murtagh is sent to kill Nasauda, but instead he frees himself of Galbatorix's control. Now Nausauda has to convince the Varden, elves, and dwarves that he's good. Can she pull it off with help of the dragons? Murtagh x Nasauda
1. prologue

**Evergreen**

**A/N:** I never finished my last Eragon fic. The plot was too complex and I wanted to do a romance, so I decided to write a Nasauda x Murtagh fic. There aren't a whole lot of them, you know. Anyways, it takes place after Eldest. I hope it turns out right, because I kind of like this fic.

Disclaimer: I don't Eragon or any of CP's Charecters.

**Prologue:**

**Clash of Wills**

There was no moon that night, thus the world was consumed in a cloud of hungry darkness. Even the inner walls of the palace, lit by flickering torches, seemed to hold more shadows that usual.

Nasauda shivered.

She looked up from the papers and searched the shadows. She thought she heard something stir in the darkness. Then her eyes picked out the faint silhouette of a man. She glanced at the door. Where were the guards that were supposed to be guarding her safety?

Nasauda fingered the hilt of her ruby dagger. She suddenly felt very alone. Eragon had left days ago to help Roran rescue his fiancé, and Elva was with helping Angela with a new project.

"Who's there?"

The figure shifted stiffly again. A man stepped into the light, sword in hand. Nasauda almost fell over as the light fell over his face. It was Murtagh.

"What are you doing you doing here, Murtagh?" Nasauda asked, somewhat calmly. They had been friends once, before her father's death. And if it weren't for the twins, they might have become something more. Now he was just an enemy.

A slave to Galbatorix.

"What do you want?" she asked again, although she already knew why he was there.

There was a dark look in his eyes and also a deep unwillingness. He gripped Zar'ock's gleaming hilt until his knuckles were white. He was trembling uncontrollably against the strain. "I don't want to," he said hoarsely. His voice was shaking.

"Then don't," Nausuda said. "You don't have to, Murtagh. I know you. You're stronger than this."

"I have to," he whispered. He raised Za'roc to eye-level, trembling against the struggle of Galbotorix's will. Nasuada recognized the struggle. Murtagh was struggling in the same manner as Elva when she fought her bindings.

Then he gave cry of pain and lunged at Nasauda. She dodged it, and thrust her ruby dagger at his ribs. Murtagh knocked it away with a single blow. Then he pushed her against the wall and stuck.

Clank.

Zar'roc's deadly tip had just barely missed Nasauda's throaght by a hair. Only the force of Murtagh's will had saved her, but the strain was killing him. He made a choking sound, trembling and muttering words that Nausauda did not understand. He said them more forcefully. The air moved and the torches dimmed. Then all at once he gasped, dropped Zar'roc, and he collapsed.

Down the hallow corridors, urgent footsteps could be heard. Nasauda took a deep, shaky breath. Arya and several soldiers burst into the room. She saw Murtagh lying unconscious at Nasauda's feet and muttered something in the ancient language. "Are you are hurt?" Arya asked.

"Don't hurt him," Nasauda said as the soldiers surrounded Murtagh.

Arya pulled her away gently. "Are you hurt?" she asked again, this time more urgently.

Nasauda wasn't listening. She was too busy watching as one of the soldiers cautiously bent down to check Murtagh's pulse. She hoped he wasn't dead, despite the miserary that he was bound to. The soldier frowned.

"Nasauda!"

"I'm fine," Nasauda said quietly. Then she turned to the soldiers. "Is he alive?"

"Barely."

"What a mess," Arya groaned. "What happened?"

Nasauda told her what had taken place between them. How he had tried to kill her on Galbatrox's orders and failed.

"We should kill him while we have the chance," Arya said grimly.

"Absolutely not! Arya, he just defied Galbatrox's orders—"

"He tried to kill you," Arya said smoothly.

Nasauda crossed her arms stubbornly. "But he didn't. He told me he didn't want to and he didn't. He kept muttering under his breath. I think he was talking in the ancient language, but I'm not sure."

"What did he say?"

Nasauda repeated his exact words and when she was finished Arya looked a little surprised. After a moment she said, "Murtagh was ordering himself and his dragon to obey only according to their free will. I think he used the power of his true name to break the oaths. I'm surprised it worked. It almost killed him."

A wave of sudden relief filled Nasauda. "Which means he's good."

"_If _it worked," Arya reminded. "We can't be sure until he wakes."

"Then we'll wait."

"You do realize how complicated things are about to get, don't you? If you thought politics were tough, having Murtagh in our custody will only make them worse."

Despite the situation, Nasauda found it in herself to smile. "I think it will be worth it having another Rider on our side."

* * *

A/N: Read and review! 


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Okay, Murtagh stealing the last egg is a bit over done, I know. But there's supposed to be a third rider, and I didn't know what to do. So, I had him steal it. Didn't know what else to do, or how get dragon #3 into the picture, but I promise, no OC's. It's over done and way too typical.

**Two**:

Hope 

"This is a mess," Arya muttered to herself, sitting beside the bed where Murtagh lay in a deep sleep. His counter spell had put a great strain on his body. He was lucky to have survived. Arya wondered if that was such a good thing after all. Even if he was no longer loyal to Galbatorix, there was still the politics to deal with. After the death of Hrothgar, the dwarves were sure to be furious he wouldn't be executed. Nasauda would never allow it, and it could very well put her leadership of the Varden in risk and possibly even the alliances as well.

Arya's own kin would be just as skeptical. If he could escape his vows to serve Galbatrox's cruel will, then technically there was no way to could secure his loyalty to Varden. Those who understood the nature of the ancient language would recognize this a great deal, and it would put many people in doubt of the Varden. Plus, Murtagh knew dark, terrible secrets, and thus unto him they relinquished a dangerous amount of power. That power, even if it were to be used to help Alagaësia _today _could very well turn against them _tomorrow_ in the aftermath of the war. Once Galbatorix was gone, who was to say that Murtagh would not desire to take over?

Arya grimly gazed down upon the fallen rider. Nasauda was risking a great deal on saving this man's life. She could loose the elves, the dwarves, and even the Surda government as her allies by taking him into her custody. If the Varden doubted Murtagh's loyalty enough, Nasauda might even loose her leadership. 

_Still_, Arya thought. _If she can convince everyone otherwise, and if Murtagh cooperates, we could use this to our advantage. He knows a great deal of Galbatrox's secrets, and we can use all the help we can get. _

She debated for a moment against all the possibilities, and, despite all her doubtful 'what if's' she decided that to take the chance. They might not have another opportunity like this. Holding her hands above Murtagh's chest, Arya said, "Waíse heill!"

When she was finished, she took her hands away and stopped, noticing the lump under his woolen cloak. There was a rounded package of linen tucked away safely inside. Curious, she took it out and unwrapped the strips of linen. Her eyes widened at the sight of the sparkling emerald green stone hiding beneath the linen. It wasn't a stone though. It was a dragon egg. Its deep green hue shimmered in the flickering torchlight with tiny specks of gold and ochre. All at once, the 'what if's' dissipated. Her hopes lifted instantly.

The promise of victory thickened.

"It was meant for Nasauda," Murtagh said hoarsely.

Arya met his half open, weary gaze. "You have a lot of explaining to do," she said coldly, despite her inner euphoria. "Where did you get this?"

Murtagh gave a choked laugh. "I stole it."

"How? You were loyal to Galbatorix. And you almost murdered Nasauda on his commands—"

"He told me to kill Nasauda," Murtagh interrupted. "He never said anything about _not_ stealing his last egg. It was rather easy, actually."

"You said it was for Nasauda," Arya said. "But you tried to kill her."

"I was hoping to fail." He said this in the ancient language.

"So you suspected to succeed in liberation? Then why didn't you try to free yourself at the Burning Planes?"

Murtagh smiled slightly. "Because I had _just_ thought of using our true names in that manner. I really didn't think it would _this _well. I was hoping Nasauda would kill me first."

Arya was still skeptical. "You said it was for Nasauda? Upon what basis?"

"I met a woman," Murtagh explained. "Apparently she was a seer. She was the one who had divined the eggs gender. Then she told us that the rider who belonged to that egg would be a woman. Her description of this woman fit Nasauda perfectly, but whether or not this is true is beyond me. I'm no seer."

_That must be why he sent Murtagh to kill her,_ Arya thought. _Not just because she was the Varden's leader. _She watched him closely for a moment, remembering how defensive Nasauda had been earlier at the suggestion of killing Murtagh. _Or was it for…personal reasons? _

"Where's your dragon?"

"Waiting a few miles south of Aberon for me to return."

"Why didn't he come with you?"

Murtagh's expression darkened. He said rather bitterly, "Because Galbatorix ordered _me _to kill Nasauda, not Thorn. He wanted to make sure that _I _killed her. So he gave us separate oaths. He made them so specific that there was no way around them. I wasn't going to commit to it. I was going to refuse…but then the words, they just came out as if someone else was talking for me."

Arya stood up suddenly. There were some things she had to talk to Nasauda about; things that _had _to be dealt with immediately, and not just the egg. "You better get some rest then. I don't know what exactly they'll do with you, but if you wish survive, you had better cooperate with Nasauda."

"Of course."

**A/N: **Wow. What wonderful reviewers I have! And so many too! I think that's my record for a first chapter.

Okay, so Murtagh stealing the last egg is a bit over done, I know. But there's supposed to be a third rider, and I didn't know what to do. So, I had him steal it. Didn't know what else to do, or how get dragon #3 into the picture, so I had him steal it against all odds. But I promise, no OC's. It's over done and way too typical for this story.

#3 will however, give me more controversy to work with.

And I like controversy.

Thanks for the reviews!


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: **I apologize in advance to any misspellings of names of person/places. It's kind of easy to do when you're working with someone else's characters.

**Two:**

**Thorn**

King Orin blinked. "Say that again?"

"Murtagh tried to kill me," Nasauda said briskly from her desk. She smiled slightly over the delicate wine glass, despite her weariness. It was nearly dawn. The sun gleamed trough the narrow window slits at last, a golden half circle that slowly peaked over the horizon, fulfilling the promise of a new day.

King Orrin's eyes widened. "Nasauda, that's horrible!

"But he didn't, Orrin. Arya said that he ordered himself to obey only his free his will. He's free now."

"That's a good thing? But he's our enemy!"

"He was under Galbatrox's control. Eragon told us that the Galbatorix was using Murtagh's true name against him, but he turned the tables and broke free of those oaths."

King Orrin watched her carefully. "You seem…happy about all this."

Nasauda lowered her mug, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Relieved actually. Now that Murtagh has released himself, it's one less battle Eragon will have to face, and one more ally we have. Murtagh also knows many of Galbatrox's secrets. We can use this to our advantage. And. I'm more than positive he'll help us."

Orrin was still skeptical. "But does this liberation make him good? Or will this mean a future enemy? He might help us now, but what about tomorrow when Galbatorix is gone? What if he becomes an even greater foe in the aftermath of this war?"

"He won't," Nasauda said confidently. "He has no intention of becoming our enemy. If it weren't for the Twins, he wouldn't be in this situation in the first place."

King Orrin wondered if Nasauda knew what she was getting herself into. "Still," he said. "We should tread carefully on this. We're walking on rather thin ice here. Even if he does help, and even if he doesn't become our enemy down the road, the Varden, the elves, and the Dwarves are not going to be happy when they hear about this. The dwarves already want his head on a pike. Nasauda, this could put your leadership in peril. Are you really willing to gamble everything on this man?"

Arya had said something like that. "I'm well aware of the situation, Orrin," Nasauda said flatly. "It will take a lot of persuasion, and a great deal of Murtagh's cooperation. He may never truly gain their trust, but I believe that he will help us."

"We can't even guarantee his trust! If Murtagh can find his way around his oaths to Galbatorix, who's to say he won't slip out of our control too?"

Nasauda scowled. Although she knew he was right. That was their one big problem. The people would want some sort of confirmation of his trust. She didn't really want to control him. Too many people had tried to control him before, but after all, who could control the wind? However, her personal beliefs would certainly clash with that of her allies. And that was where other problems arose.

"I don't know," she said. "We just do. We're gambling a lot of things as it is, but this is one opportunity I _will_ _not_ let slip away." Orrin was giving her that 'are you crazy?' look.

Lately, it seemed that everyone was wearing that expression. Lace, Elva the child bodyguard, Urgals, Murtagh…was she really being _that _outlandish? Her plan to fund the Varden with lace proved more than successful, and obtaining alliance with the Urgals had done wonders for them in battle. As for Elva, despite her suffering, she did a fairly sound job in foreboding danger. So it seemed to Nasauda that the term 'outlandish' was simply a synonym for 'original'.

"Nasauda—"

He was interrupted by a thundering loud crash, followed by the chocking scent of smoke, the distressed yells of frantic soldiers, and a loud, throaty roar. Nasauda and Orrin expanded glances before darting out into the main hall, weapons drawn. Orrin gave a horrified sound at the sight of utter chaos, half between a squeak and half a shriek. There was giant hole in the corridor's great, arching ceiling where Thorn had broken through, roaring madly and spewing vast streams of formidable inferno. Several of the fallen beams had caught fire.

The soldiers ran away in terror, some boldly stayed behind; they lasted only a little while though, against Thorn's redoubtable wrath. His razor sharp claws and barbed tail tore through their armor like a knife through paper. Meanwhile, other soldiers frantically were running around, buckets of water in hand, trying to dissipate the growing flames without getting mauled.

"Great gods!" Orrin cried. His eyes were as wide as plates. He turned to Nasauda, hysterical with panic at the chaotic scene. "Nasauda! What are you waiting for? Do something! Hurry! That monster is destroying my home!"

Nasauda hardly heard him. She marched up to the raging dragon. It probably wasn't the most intelligible action, but what else was she to do? If Thorn was anything like Saphira then he would at least listen to her.

Thorn! Nasauda shouted with her mind. Stop!

Thorn whirled around angrily, impaling a nearby soldier with his barbed tail. There was a dangerous gleam in his glowing, ochre eyes. He let out a nasty snarl; puffs of black smoke seeping threw clenched jaws of razor sharp ivory. You! Where is he? Tell me now, woman, or I will find him myself!

_Relax, _Nasauda said. _Murtagh is fine. He's—_

Another throaty growl escaped Thorn's throat. What have you done with him? If you have hurt him, then I shall wreck havoc upon your kin— 

_He's fine,_ Nasauda repeated. _He's resting. _

Thorn gave her a suspicious look. _He broke the oaths last night,_ Thorn said. _We don't have to obey that monster anymore. We _won't _obey_ _him. He has caused Murtagh a great deal of pain._ He bent down and met Nasauda's gaze nose-to-nose.She could feel the heat of his breath pressing against her face like an oven's wavering fervor. _I will never let him go back. You understand that don't you, woman? _

_Perfectly._

So you won't hurt him?

_Of course not._

"What's going on," Orin whispered, glancing at the dragon anxiously.

"He was worried about Murtagh."

"Oh, so then that perfectly justifies destroying my roof, doesn't it?"

"Look, I'll fix your stupid roof. Just let me handle this first." She turned back to Thorn. _Will you please come with me?_

_Are we going to see Murtagh?_

_Not right now. There are some things we need to sort out first—_

Thorn let out another dangerous growl. "Patience, we are on your side, O great dragon," Orin said quickly.

_Don't mock me, silly man,_ Thorn sniffed._ I am in no mood for comics this morning. _

"We just need to talk," Orrin said. "At least hear us out."

_You two are in big trouble,_ Nasauda said._ Were the Varden under anyone else's rule, you'd probably face execution. But I think I may have found a way around it, _if_ you are willing to hear me out. _

Thorn watched her carefully. Behind those glowing ochre eyes, she could see the wheels turning in his head, contemplating the delicacy of the situation. Finally, he said, _Perhaps we can come to some sort of agreement. Murtagh always said that that you were of reasonable consideration. _

_------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

**A/N:** Holy crap! Excuse my language, but I'm surprised at how many reviews I have. Are you reviewers feeling sick or something? I've never had this many for a second chapter. It's almost unheard of! Oh well, we'll just keep surprising each other, won't we?

One of you lovely reviewers (**red'-'clueless**) suggested there should be a twist, 'like if something came from over the seas to help Galbatorix.' I think I'll take this into consideration. Funny you should mention it, actually, because I was already toying with the idea.

And I think you'll be rather pleased with it.

In the mean time, happy reading!


	4. Chapter 3

**Three:**

**  
Evergreen**

It was midmorning when Arya had found Nasauda in her office, staring silently out of the narrow window. She seemed rather tired after spending the dwindling night dealing with their newly arisen dilemma. She had not slept at all. None of them had.

In the corner of the office, Arya spied the ruby dragon curled up tightly. _That explains the hole in the ceiling,_ Arya concluded as Thorn cracked open an ochre eye.

Arya clutched the egg closer. "Nasauda," she said smoothly. "We have to talk."

Nasauda looked up. She smiled slightly. "Indeed," Nasauda conceded. "Thorn here has agreed to let us examine his mind. I would ask one of my magicians to do it, but I'm afraid I don't trust magicians very much."

Arya gave her a startled look. "Why not Murtagh—"

_Because Murtagh is much too stubborn for his own good, dear elf-woman,_ said Thorn. _He will never let anyone into his mind_. _It is his one true sanctuary; the one thing the world could not violet. Torture him, yes. Persecute him, of course. But none of them could catch glimpse of Mutagh's true being until Galbatorix pried it open with his dirty fingers. Until then, no one could get in. _He swished his tail irritably. _Sometimes even _I _cannot get in. _

"The people will feel much better about the situation if we can examine Thorn's mind," Nasauda said. "And as Thorn just said, Murtagh will never let us examine him. Even if _I _made the request, I think he would choose death first. So, we chose the next best thing."

"I suppose that's reasonable," Arya said. "But we have bigger problems." She held up the egg. so that it glittered in the morning sun. "He said he stole this from the Empire."

_He wasn't lying, _Thorn said.

Nasauda's expression brightened with both awe and hope. "That's wonderful!" she cried. "This will help him— and us— so much! Arya, do you realize what this means?"

"Controversy."

Nasauda blinked. "Controversy?"

"He told me that it was meant for _you." _Arya explained all that Murtagh had said. As she did so, the awe melted off of Nasauda's beautiful face.

"I'm not touching that thing," Nasauda said flatly, as if the egg had suddenly turned into something hideous and disgusting.

_Why not?_ Thorn asked, tiltling his head to the side.

"Because there are currently three human riders in Alagaësia— Galbatorix, Eragon, and Murtagh. If you want my honest opinion, Arya, I don't think your kin will be too pleased to have _another_ human rider. This will help Murtagh win the people over a great deal, but _I am not _touching that egg."

Arya wasn't one for prophecies, but Nasauda's words were harsh and cold, almost insulting. "You don't want it?"

"No."

In a way, this left Arya stunned, for many leaders would have given _anything _at the thought of becoming a rider. And here Nasauda was, refusing to even touch it. She looked at the Varden leader with newfound respect. "You have no desire to become a rider?"

"I have never dreamed of it," Nasauda admitted. "Galbatorix, a rider, is the whole reason we're in this mess. You should have known better than to give any human this sort of power. I doubt it would have occurred within the elfin race, for your society allows for little corruption. Us humans on the other hand, give us any kind of power—whether it be gold or magic— and it is likely to turn against us. We have created our own evil, here, Arya. It is no one else's doing but our own."

_The Riders were created to maintain peace between the races,_ Thorn pointed out, sounding a little hurt, and maybe even a little insulted. _They were supposed to prevent war and corruption._

Nasauda smiled wryly. "Ironic, isn't? Instead of maintaining harmony, we have fashioned the one thing we feared most. We have brought it into existence, and now we must destroy it."

"You're just full of surprises today, aren't you?"

"I have put a great deal of thought into this, Arya," Nasauda said. "In the mean time, take the egg and try to hatch it for one of your kinfolk. If you don't find the rider amongst them, _then_ we will talk." She stood up. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have something very important I need to deal with before we do anything else."

She had made it to the door when Arya said softly, "Nasauda."

"Yes?"

"What is it…between you and Murtagh?" For the first time in many years, she faltered. She wasn't used to meddling in people's private affairs, but this was almost important as finding the last rider.

Nasauda hesitated. The question had caught her off guard. "There is nothing between us," she said. "You should know better than to suggest such dangerous things." Then she quickly disappeared.

_Liar,_ Thorn muttered.

* * *

_There is nothing between us,_ Nasauda told herself, marching off to Murtagh's cell. _There never was. _It shouldn't have bothered her as much as it did. Still, those three words rang sourly through her thoughts, and mostly because she knew it was a lie.

There _might_ have been something there beyond simple friendship. Just maybe…but if so, then it could go no further than that. The politics would never allow it. It would undermine her authority. If she gave the Varden a reason to doubt her, they would. And, despite whatever feelings she might have had for Murtagh, it would be completely foolish to go any further. That, above all else, was probably the most dangerous ground she could tread.

Maybe that was why it bothered her so.

Murtagh's cell was heavily guarded. There were soldiers posted on each end of the corridors and at the heavy, iron door. "I would like to speak with him," Nasauda told one of them. He opened his mouth to object, but she quickly cut him off. "Don't make me say it again."

"As you wish," the soldier said and reluctantly slid the giant dead bolt aside. "Please be careful, Lady Nasauda," he murmured before closing the door.

She heard the dead bolt slide back into place. Murtagh was sitting upright on the bed. He looked a little older, she noticed, and tired. His hands were heavily scarred from wounds that had long since healed. The desolation had vanished from his eyes had vanished, and his normal, expressionless façade had returned. "How are you feeling?" she asked. "Truthfully."

He closed his eyes. "Tired."

"You've accomplished quite the feat." She smiled. "You're free now."

Murtagh gave a sarcastic laugh. "Am I? Sometimes I wonder if I will ever truly be free."

"I'm sorry."

Murtagh stared at her like she had actually lost her mind. "For what?"

She shifted uncomfortably under his quizzical gaze. "For everything you've been through."

"But it's not your fault."

"I know, I'm just…sorry it happened." A rather awkward silence ensued. "Murtagh, I'll be straight forward with you," Nasauda said, collecting herself at last. "You are in serious trouble. The Varden— especially the dwarves— are not too thrilled with the situation. I understand that you are not responsible for what happened, but—"

"But what?" Murtagh said coldly. He instantly regretted it. "Sorry."

"I think I've found a way around it. I think I can convince the Varden you are not loyal to the Empire. Now that you are unbound, would you be willing to follow my cause?"

Murtagh said nothing for a long, long time, until Nasauda began to wonder if he would ever reply. Then he smiled faintly. "I'll follow _you_, Nasauda," he said, "Until the evergreen tree has lost its hue."

* * *

**A/N: **Ha, ha! So now you know why it's called 'Evergreen,' my favorite title in the whole wide world. Great gods, this fic is so much fun to write!

I haven't really had time to go through and proof read everything fifty million times, so I apologize for any misspelling, missing words, and/or bad grammar. Oh well. With this crazy weather, maybe I won't be so pressed to update ASAP and actually get around to proof reading it better.

Thanks for the reviews!


	5. Chapter 4

**Four:**

**Discussion of War**

Arya shuddered and pulled away from Thorn's mind, though she was not finished. She had witnessed both Thorn's memories as well as Murtagh's, which Thorn had access to most of the time.

Murtagh's memories were the worst.

She could still hear resonance of Murtagh's screams ringing in her ears with the timbre of sheer anguish. Arya sympathized with his pain from the long miserable days she had spent in Empires custody. She shuddered again at the thought of what might have happened if Galbatorix had personally dealt with her. Her opinion of Thorn and Murtagh quickly changed.

_Now do you understand? _Thorn asked. _We have as little love for that monster as you, and if not then a thousand times less! _

Arya nodded. _I understand,_ she said with new sympathy. _You two have been through a significant amount of struggles. I have misjudged you and Murtagh. I apologize for my naiveté. _

_Accepted. _He turned and glanced at the door, ochre eyes narrowing crossly.

"I really don't how the dwarves are going to react," Nasauda was saying to Thorn's weary-looking rider. "I'm more concerned about _them_ than anyone else at the moment. Since Hrothgar's burial, things have been shaky. Their kingdom is almost entirely up in chaos. However, despite the conflicts between clans, I suspect that Orik will Hrothgar's place as king."

"I shouldn't have been so careless," Murtagh scowled at himself. "If I had known that was Hrothgar I would have never—"

The moment Murtagh came through the door, Thorn leapt from his corner and tackled him with an angry roar. Nasauda gave surprised cry and ducked as the claret dragon leapt over her head.

_You!_ Thorn snarled at his rider, barring jaws of ivory white as he pinned Murtagh to the cold, stony floor. _You bone-headed, dusty-brained, idiot! __You've been awake all this time and you've kept me shut out!_

Murtagh choked and tried to push him away, though to no avail. "Get off," he gasped aloud, squirming beneath Thorn's mighty claws.

_I'm not finished with you yet, Murtagh, you wool-headed, paranoid goat! You kept your barriers up so well, I couldn't tell if you were hurt or worse! _

_I'm sorry. _

_Sorry for what? _Thorn hissed. _Sorry that you flat out ignored me, or that I had to assume the worst and come find you? I tried to talk to talk to you many times, but you wouldn't answer. I could hardly sense you at all, Murtagh. You could have _died_ and I might have never known the difference!_

_I didn't hear you. _

_You weren't listening. _Finally, with a frustrated sigh, Thorn retreated and let him up. _Riders and dragons that are bound together through magic are _supposed _to work together not just as two separate physical beings, but also as a single mind. How can that be if you won't even talk to me?_

"Are you finished now?" Nasauda asked patiently.

_I don't know,_ Thorn said, glaring at Murtagh. _I'm not sure if I've knocked enough sense into him yet. _

_  
_Murtagh ducked just in time as a thorny tail swung over his head. He glowered at Thorn. _Are you trying to impale me?_

_Well it wouldn't hurt you too much; you're brain's already rattled!_

_I get the point, Thorn. _

_Do you? _

Nasauda cleared her throat. "I don't mean to interrupt, but could we perhaps move on?"

_If you wish, _Thorn said.

"Unfortunately, I will be meeting with my council later this evening. I would ovoid it if I could, but winning their approval should be easy once I make my argument. King Orrin has agreed to help—"

"As will I," Arya added. "Defeating Galbatorix is too important to me. And the Council of Elders are not foolish enough object all three of us." Her eyes flickered over Murtagh. "You _are_ going to fight alongside the Varden, aren't you?"

In the ancient language, he replied, "So long as Nasauda asks it of me."

"The more people we can persuade, the better," Nasauda continued. "Eragon has not returned yet, but I think that if we can get _his _approval too, then things will be much smoother. He might even be able to help convince the dwarves I've not lost my mind."

Murtagh stiffened at the mention of Eragon's name. "If that is your will, then so be it." He paused. "Although, you should probably be more worried about the army that Galbatorix has sent for from over seas."

"Army!" Both Arya and Nasauda chorused.

"Galbatorix didn't give me much detail, but he seemed pretty pleased with himself."

"What sort of army are we talking about? Humans, monsters, magicians…what?" Nasauda asked.

_He was careful to keep that a secret,_ said Thorn. _All he said was that he plans to use it to obliterate his enemies. They seem a powerful race and come from some far away land, long forgotten to human memory._

"He also implied that he plans to expand the Empire further into the east, beyond the Hadarac Desert and into whatever land that lies beyond the Beor Mountains."

"This is terrible!" Nasauda cried. She sank into her seat with dismay at the thought of a whole other army joining forces with an already formidable enemy. "What are we going to do? We already have _his _army to deal with, let alone a _foreign_ military!"

"When does Galbatorix expect these foreigners to arrive?" Arya asked in a calmer demeanor. "Did he tell you that?"

Murtagh nodded gravely. "If I understood correctly, he expects them to land in port by Midwinter of next year. The battle at the Burning Planes was merely a way of weakening your numbers. He wants as little resistance as possible when this alien military arrives, though I don't think it would matter much anyways."

"Then _we_ need more allies," Nasauda said. "We're already short handed as it is."

"Where are we going to find any?" Murtagh asked. "Everyone in Alagaësia is already involved in the war."

Nasauda let out a groan. Where was she going to find enough soldiers now? The battle of the Burning Planes, as Murtagh said, had indeed left them undermanned. They were already outnumbered as it was, and every race inhabiting Alagaësia was either fighting alongside Alagaësia or in opposition.

Of course, there was the possibility Nasauda could send for outside help from beyond Alagaësia's borders, but that might take too long. The territory was too unknown, too far away, and too little explored. And if there were any outside civilizations, would they even be willing to help strangers?

She sighed heavily and slumped back into her chair. "I suppose we'll figure something out. For now, I must deal with the task at hand." She turned to Murtagh and Thorn. "Orrin has been kind enough to arrange more suitable rooms for you and Thorn." She forced a smile. "Please do get some rest, you look terrible Murtagh."

_Yes, _Thorn said with a bit of amusement. _With the way you look now, you might scare the foreigners to death! _

Murtagh ignored the comment. "If you wish it."

* * *

**A/N:** I'm sick of writing this chapter. I've rewritten it fifty million times. So I am not messing with it anymore, even if it is too short for my liking. My patience today, after babysitting all those noisy kids, is running rather slow. 

There is a lot I'm planning to do with my formidable army from overseas. I'm not going to reveal who they are just yet. Kind of have to build up to it, you know? So don't worry I have tons of tricks up my sleeve.

Thanks for the reviews!


	6. Chapter 5

**Five:**

Suggestion 

It was late into the evening when Thorn roused him from the peaceful depths of sleep. Murtagh reluctantly opened his eyes. _Is something wrong? _He asked Thorn, who was sitting in the corner.

_A servant boy just came by,_ Thorn said. _Nasauda has invited us to join her for dinner. _

_Dinner? Now?_

_I don't think Nasauda would appreciate it if we were late after all she's doing to keep us from the gallows._

Murtagh sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. _How long have I been asleep?_

_At least two days._

_Two days!_

_Well, birdbrain, if you hadn't ignored me, I could have helped you break the oaths,_ Thorn said. _And then it wouldn't have drained you so. _

_I said I was sorry. _

_Just don't do it again. _Thorn pointed to a corner where Zar'roc lay. _Nasauda brought that by yesterday. Although she seemed a bit hesitant to give it back. _

_Why?_

_Gee, I don't know, maybe because it once belonged to a mad man! You almost killed Nasauda with that sword, and it has done evil things, Murtagh. People will remember those sinful deeds for many, many years to come. You should get rid of it. _

Murtagh buckled Zar'roc to his belt. _Swords aren't evil, Thorn. _People_ are. _

_Still, Zar'roc has done well to live up to its name; it is nothing but a monument of misery. _Your _misery. Even Eragon could not change its wicked history._

_I'll think about_, he said bitterly, pulling his boots on. Thorn may have been right, but he was still somewhat attached to the sword. It was his inheritance, after all, even if it had belonged to the most formidable of the Forsworn, and he wasn't willing to give it up just yet. _Let's go._

As they walked through the high, arched corridors, Murtagh noticed the half fixed hole in the ceiling. The roofers were busy laboring diligently to the music of their hammers. One of the roofers noticed Murtagh's gaze. His eyes widened and he hurried away. _After all the trouble we've caused, Nasauda's going to an awful lot of trouble in vouching for us, _he thought.

_She knows that her cause depends on it,_ Thorn said. _Our fate, as well as Alagaësia's depends on this with that foreign army and what not. She also understands our plight and she…_

_And she what? _Murtagh asked when Thorn did not finish.

_Oh, you didn't know?_

_Obviously._

Thorn let out an amused snort and trotted on.

_What's so funny? _

_It's nothing. _

The sentries outside Nasauda's office gave them a rather funny look too and they stiffened at the sight of rider and dragon. "Nasauda has called for us," Murtagh told them. The sentry hesitated and nodded reluctantly.

Nasauda was sitting at her desk, her hair done up rather exquisitely. She was wearing at wine-red gown that was long and sinuous, the slim of her bodice embossed with tiny black beads. The handkerchief sleeves draped from her slender elbows, flowing elegantly at her sides. Over all, she looked as stunning as always.

Nasauda looked up from the masses of scrolls pilled on top of her desk and beamed. "I have wonderful news," she said, rearranging the scrolls. Her cheerfulness caught Murtagh off guard. He shifted uncomfortably, trying not to stare.

"Indeed?"

_Stop drooling,_ Thorn teased.

_I was not drooling,_ Murtagh protested.

_It's understandable. Nasauda has always had that effect on you. _

"I have finally gotten through to the Council of Elders," Nasauda continued buoyantly. "I was right all along; those old goats wouldn't listen at first, but in the end they couldn't even find a suitable argument against Orrin, Arya, _and_ myself."

_That is good news,_ Thorn said.

"But I'm afraid the worst has yet to come. I sent for Orik this morning, and I believe he will give us an honest opinion of what to expect from his kin." She waved a slender hand at an empty chair. "Well, don't just stand there, Murtagh. Sit! We have much to talk about."

Clearing her desk, Nasauda pulled out rather ancient looking map of the Hadarac Desert. "I have an idea," she said, laying the map out neatly between them. "Are you familiar with the nomads who roam the Hadarac?"

Murtagh raised a curious brow. No one really ever paid attention to the nomads who wandered the desert. They were a shy, secretive people who avoided anyone who did not speak their language. "I know a little, but not much. From what I understand they don't associate with people who don't speak their language."

"I asked Arya what she knew of them, and even _she _couldn't tell me much," Nasauda said. "They've been around since humans first came to Alagaësia. She couldn't tell me exactly why they went into the desert, unlike the other tribes, let alone anything about their culture. " She sighed. "They have secluded themselves so well that they have become a complete mystery even to the elves."

Murtagh nodded. "Their language is dead to the rest of Alagaësia," he said. "Any major records of their history or culture that _might_ have existed have been long since destroyed. All we have are bits and pieces of information, scraps really. So, why do you ask?"

Tapping her fingers, Nasauda stared at the map as if trying to pin point the nomad's exact location. "I was thinking of asking them for help," she said. "But I don't know if they even know what 'war' means. From what I could gather, they don't even both making weapons."

"They don't really have the resources," Murtagh said dubiously. "After all, they live in the desertBesides, even if they did know how to fight, we'd have to _find _them first. And that could take years!"

_Perhaps they use magic to conceal themselves,_ Thorn suggested. _Or maybe they have developed some other way of hiding? _

"How do you veil a whole tribe of people in a wide open desert?" Nasauda said. "It's almost absurd how they can hide even from the elves, let alone Galbatorix."

"I don't think Galbatorix is too interested with a bunch of peaceful nomads," Murtagh said with a wry smile. "Especially if they have no brains for war."

"Then I suppose we'll have to do without," Nasauda said with a groan. "They might not even be of much help anyways."

"Well maybe…" he trailed off as a rather flustered looking Orik came barging into the office, heedless of the sentry's protests.

"Nasauda!" Orik cried, throwing his arms up in the air. "What's this I hear you have Hrothgar's murderer—" he saw Murtagh and Thorn, uttered a hateful curse, and reached for his axe. "What is the meaning of this outrageousness? Why isn't he in shackles!

"No," Nasauda said quickly. "I can explain. Murtagh is here to help." She quickly explained the situation. All the while Orik never took his suspicious gaze off Murtagh.

When Nasauda was finished, the dwarf grumbled, "This is insane."

"Insane or not," Nasauda said, crossing her arms stubbornly. "Murtagh has escaped Galbatorix's control and he has agreed to help. Galbatorix is importing an entire foreign army by midwinter of next year. We are in serious trouble, here, Orik. We _need _as much help as we can get. And Murtagh, here, has already given us an upper hand."

"How so?"

Nasauda smiled. "He has given us Galbatorix's last dragon egg."

Orik's mouth dropped open, then he clamped it shut and turned to Murtagh. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Enjoy what?"

"Taking Hrothgar's life," Orik snapped. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Does a dog enjoy being beaten by its master?" Murtagh said with a dark edge. "Of course not. I _never_ enjoyed fighting against friends."

"Indeed," Orik said grimly. He crossed his arms, stroking his rough beard thoughtfully. Then he sighed and said, "And you will fight alongside the Varden to the end?"

"So long as Nasauda asks it of me."

"And if something were to happen to Nasauda, would you still fight loyally?"

Murtagh glared at the dwarf dangerously. "Are you implying something, Orik?"

"I would never dream of it, but you know what I mean."

Murtagh shrugged. "I won't rebel against the Varden, if that's what you mean."

Orik sighed. "My fellow knurlman will not be pleased with you. Outraged, I think, is a better term to describe their rejoinder. I on the other hand, understand this plight; we _do _need all the help we can muster up…but not everyone will share my opinion. If you want to win them over, then you had best find a way to redeem yourself. Until then, avoid our cities, less you wish to find your head on a pike."

_Typical,_ Murtagh thought.

_No one said this would be easy,_ Thorn echoed.

_It never was. _

* * *

**A/N**: It was mentioned in _Eragon _that there were nomads living in the Hadarac Desert. Murtagh said they hide their water wells too well laughs at stupid pun. I remember because, well let's face it; he's the absolute best!

What the freaking hell Mr. P!

You mention nomads and then you totally forget about them? I was expecting you to _do_ something with these mysterious wanderers. Since you haven't done anything with them, you have left me no choice but to take matters into my own hands.

I'd like to once again thank you reviewers.


	7. Chapter 6

**Six: **

Dangerous Requests

Nasauda leaned back into her chair and sighed. The situation was like a ball of yearn; a giant ball of knotted, dishelved yarn that was growing increasingly difficult to untangle. It would take time to stabilize Murtagh's reputation. Time that they didn't have. She knew that the council had only agreed because they could not ignore Arya's,Orrin's, _and_ her authority. It had been easy; almost too easy for Nasauda's liking. She remembered how much they had harried her about _who_ he was loyal to not only within the Varden as well. _I'd bet my left my left hand they'll try something. They'll either try to get rid of him, or try to control him. And I want neither of those things._

"In that case," Nasauda said at last. "Do you have any suggestions? The sooner we can smooth things out, the better."

"Has Eragon returned yet?"

"He has not, but it is too soon to worry."

"Where is Eragon?" Murtagh asked.

"Helgrind," both Orik and Nasauda said with the same edge of irritation.

"To help Roran rescues his fiancé."

"Fool," Orik muttered.

Half the color drained from Murtagh's face, though he remained nonchalant and expressionless all the same. "You sent him _there_?"

"_I_ didn't," Nasauda said. "It was his idea, as imprudent as it was. Why?"

Murtagh shrugged. "Oh it's nothing really. Just that Eragon has a rock for a brain! Doesn't he know that Helgrind is infested with Ra'zac? That's like walking into a hornet's nest."

"He was well aware."

"Now hold on here," Orik said. "We can use this to our advantage." He pointed to Murtagh. "We can send you to go help Eragon, which you should be happy to do considering your actions on the Burning Planes, and in the process slay the monster that lives beneath Helgrind."

"Monster?"

"It's called Gonoszság Sämd, meaning 'rotten evil.' It's a terrible creature said to have manifested out of all the evil actions committed in Alagaësia. It used to live in our mines, devouring unsuspecting dwarves until the Riders drove it out. Legend says that it now lurks beneath Helgrind's evil earth, waiting for a time when the sun no longer rises, when nighttime is eternal and misery is fluent. Only then it will breach stone and soil to once again abbolish all things good as king of darkness."

"And how would slaying this monster—if it even exists— help?" Nasauda asked skeptically.

"Gonoszság Skämd stole myriad lives. It relentlessly wrecked havoc on our cities and forts, destroying nearly everything in its path. It is also the epitome of sheer evil. If you kill that demon and bring back its head, then _that_ should be proof enough to the people."

"That sounds reasonable," Nasuada said. Plunging headforth into the domain of evil to slay a monster that _might _exist was indeed a bit risky._ Still, if it will convince everyone to see the good in him, then it's worth a try._ To Murtagh she said, "Are you well enough?"

Murtagh laughed. "I've never felt better."

"Good. If Eragon has not returned by the first quarter moon, we'll set out for Helgrind. The situation isn't too dire, so four days should be enough."

"We?"

"Yes," Nasauda said. "We. As in you, me, and Thorn."

Murtagh frowned. "Why are _you_ going?"

"Murtagh—"

"Nasauda, I'm not going to put your life at risk when it's unnecessary."

"It's perfectly reasonable," Nasuada said. "If I go to Helgrind with you, and come back safely, then that should also prove you can be trusted. Besides, someone has to go with you to make sure you don't try to escape. I doubt you would, but the Varden won't be so convinced. Let alone Eragon."

Murtagh turned to Thorn, as if hoping he could say something to back him up. _You're on your own with this,_ he said. _I'm staying out of this._

Murtagh shot the dragon an irritable glare. "Nasuada, you can't go. If something did happen to you, the Varden would fall apart. And if they go, then who will defeat the Empire? Beside, I don't want to be responsible if something _did_ happen to you."

_Because he would regret it for the rest of his life,_ Thorn added. _Sorry, I lied._ Now_ you're on your own._

Nasauda ignored him. "You're not my father, Murtagh," Nasuada said coldly. "And I am not made of glass. You said that all I had to do was ask and you would follow."

He met her gaze with a pleadingly, almost heart wrenching look. "And this is what you ask of me? To put your life in peril?"

With a gentle smile, she nodded. "It is."

Defeated, Murtagh drew a heavy breath. "Then so be it."

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry I haven't updated in a while. My Internet thing keeps pooping out on me.

As for 'Gonoszság Sämd:'

_'Gonoszság'_ is a Hungarian word meaning 'evil' and _'Sämd'_ is a Sweedish word meaning 'rotten' and 'tainted.' You see, most people collect things like figurines, roosters, cows, rocks, plants, nutcrackers, and rand Coke merchandise. Me? I collect words. Words from all around the world. I don't why, but I just love words. I like the way they sound, they way they look, the way they're spelled...I'm known to get on the Internet and look up random words in random foreign languages. The point is, I'm using my collection to fill in the gaps.

I'll tell more later.

In the mean time, thanks for the reviews and happy Holidays!


	8. Chapter 7

**Seven:**

**Farewell to Misery**

_You do resemble him a bit…_

Sitting on the well's stony edge, slumped against the wood post, Murtagh bitterly recalled the day at the infirmary. It was Nasauda's idea. They would be leaving in three days, and in the mean time, she had asked him to help out in the infirmary.

It was horrible.

The sick wards were too small, the injured too many, and the healers too few. Dying men lay practically pilling over one another. Yet, even as they slowly lost their grip on life, they still found the energy to flinch and dwell on hatred when Murtagh tried to heal. He didn't blame them, not really. After all, he _had _led the men who put them in hospice in the first place, and his father, well, that didn't help much either. Although, what bothered him the most, was the little old lady who had suffered burns from an erratic kitchen fire; she had burst into terrified sobs before Murtagh could utter "Waíse."

_You do resemble him a bit…_

That was what the head healer had said. Murtagh forced a bitter, empty laugh. _I look like my father. I resemble the one man I hate more than Galbatorix…how ironic._ Those truthful thoughts left him with a sour feeling that he had grown accustomed to over the years.

He reached for Zar'roc's hilt and released it from the scabbard. It gave a sinister, snake-like hiss. He held it up so that the blade glimmered in the moonlight. The sword had lived up to its name well. While wielding Zar'roc, Morzan had committed terrible deeds. He had destroyed and pillaged, tortured and corrupted. The scar on his back was proof of Morzan's reign of terror. _And I almost killed Nasauda with this wrenched thing. _

It seemed that Zar'roc— as its name plainly stated— was indeed nothing but a monument of sheer misery. It stood for nothing but a world of hopelessness. He remembered the tearful little old lady. It was because of Morzan that he was hated. It was because of Morzan who had helped Galbatorix come to power that he had lost his freewill. It was because of _him _that the Varden existed. Without Morzan, Galbatorix might not have created the Foresworn; he might not have been able to kill Shruikan rider. So then…why was he was so reluctant to let it go?

_After all, it's just a sword._ _A mad man's sword passed down from father to son…a statement of my own misery. Maybe if I just…_

He let Zar'roc's gleaming hilt slide out of his hand. Murtagh watched as it disappeared in the well's abyss. He heard the blade hit tip-first before vanishing for good, where it would wallow for all eternity, its misery forgotten to the world at last.

Somehow, knowing that _he_ had thrown Zar'roc away, he felt somewhat relieved. _Maybe now I won't resemble my father so much._

_It's a start, _Thorn said, looming above him. _How was the infirmary? Did you make a good nurse?_

_It was horrible. _He tried to hide the acrimony within, but he knew it was useless since Thorn always seemed to know more about him than himself. _Everyone kept looking at me like I was going to blow them all to nothingness. _He stared up at the starry sky, wishing he could disappear in the shadows.

_If it makes you feel better, I scared the pee out of a little girl— literally. _

It didn't. It only made him feel worse.

Thorn nudged him gently. _It may be bad right now, but that will all change. We'll slay that monster and bring back its head as proof of our loyalty. Then they will have no reason to object. _

_But they'll still be afraid,_ Murtagh said. _I am still the son of Morzan. They'll never let me forget that. _

_You're not Morzan's only son,_ Thorn reminded.

_It doesn't matter. By blood or not, Eragon is not my brother. A brother is someone you grow up with. Someone you share many years of your childhood with._ He remembered how willing Eragon had been to get his cousin away from the Twins. _Brothers watch out for each other, no matter the cost. You are more my brother than Eragon._

_Perhaps,_ Thorn said. _But haven't you've looked out for Eragon on numerous occasions?_

_That was only because Eragon's head is filled with rocks. _

_Hmm…rock-brains must be a family trait then. _He gave Murtagh another gentle nudge. _Let's get to bed. Who knows what tomorrow has in store?_

_Politics. Prejudice. Controversy.  
_

Thorn snapped at his elbow, just barely missing the skin. _And no more wallowing in self pity!_

_I wasn't wallowing in self pity._

They walked together back to the castle through the courtyard over narrow cobblestone paths. _Then what were you wallowing in?_

_I wasn't wallowing in anything. I was cursing my father's damn name!_

_You know if it weren't for Morzan, you wouldn't even exist. And then I would still be stuck in that egg. _

_Thorn!  
_

_I'm just being optimistic, Murtagh. If you don't stop floundering in those dark moods, you're never going to enjoy life. _

Murtagh kicked absently at a loose stone. _The whole world is out to get us, Thorn. The Varden hate us, the dwarves want our head on a pike, and Galbatorix is most likely out for our blood._

_We did steal his last egg._

Murtagh smiled wryly. _And right under his nose too!_

_He didn't even see it coming._

_Stupid old geezer._


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N: **Before I forget, Vrîend'dräcois pronounced 'vree-end-draw-co' and Gonoszság Skämd is pronounced 'go-nose-saw-g sk-ah-md' at least, that's I've been pronouncing them. I wont' tell what Vrîend'dräcois because that would just totally blow everything. The original roots of the word(s) are Latin and German (I think).

**Eight:**

**Vrîend'dräco**

_You're late,_ Thorn said at the city gate, saddled and ready to go. Dawn had already pierced the horizon, bathing the fields surrounding Aberon in liquid gold.

Murtagh twirled the new blade proudly. It flashed menacingly against the morning glare. _Sorry_, _he smithy took longer than I thought._ The sword he had taken from the Varden's armory was as close to his old hand-and-a-half blade as he could get.

_You were just being picky,_ Thorn said.

_If being picky keeps us alive, then I have every right to it. This one's not immortal like Zar'roc, but it was the best they had. _Sheathing the new blade, Murtagh glanced around uneasily. _Where's Nasauda? _

_She's late too._

Murtagh shook his head regretfully. _I still don't want her to come,_ he admitted. _I don't care what she says. I don't want to risk her life._

No man has ever wanted to put his beloved in danger, Murtagh.

Murtagh felt his face go red. He tried to conceal his embarrassment, but he failed miserably. It's not just that, he said, kicking at the ground with the toe of his boot. But we'll be flying with her the whole time! He shuddered at the thought of being so close to such a noble woman as Nasauda. He had never been in such a situation before, and well, he wasn't sure how to handle it.

The scaly curves of Thorn's lips curved into a teasing grin. My O my, do I love love!

Murtagh groaned and pressed his forehead against the dragon's saddle. It's not love, he said grimly. I'm in no position to love anyone, let alone Nasauda. That'd be the stupidest thing I could do.

How so?

Murtagh scowled. They might think I'm influencing her decisions somehow. They might begin suspect I am…corroding her virtue.

A shame, Thorn said. But love works two ways you know.

Murtagh forced a smile. Now you're being silly.

Am I?

I won't argue waste time arguing, Thorn.

Deny it all you want, Murtagh. But I know the truth. You may keep me locked out of your head sometimes, but I can still hear the words of your heart. You speak too loudly with it, you know.

Murtagh gave a dubious laugh. For a creature as powerful as you, you sure are being sappy.

Thorn growled loudly. I only tell the truth, pinhead. All living creatures speak what's in their hearts. You civilized folk have just forgotten how to listen. You're hearts have grown deaf.

Just then, a smooth voice called out Murtagh's name. He whirled around as Arya approached them. "Arya? What are you doing here? I thought you went back to—"

"I ran fast," Arya said shortly. "Have you seen Nasauda? I must speak to her soon."

Murtagh looked at her curiously. "Did it hatch?"

"No. The Rider has yet to be chosen. I've left the egg in trusted care so that I may continue to offer my counsel to Nasauda." She paused. "I've been looking for her all morning."

"She's late."

Arya raised a pencil thin brow. "You're going to Helgrind." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes. To help Eragon and to kill a monster called Gonoszság Skämd." He felt dirty saying the name; it left him feeling soiled and his soul unjust, as if he had just committed some heinous crime.

"Be wary. That monster is no myth. We have records of when…that beast was driven from Farthan Dur. Exterminating it may very well decide whether you will launder your name or be continuously cursed for past deeds." She paused."I would also advise you to steer clear of politics when standing before a council. Keep your opinions strictly to yourself, _especially_ if it is on behalf of Nasauda's argument. We don't need the Varden assuming you are influencing her decisions. " Her voice was smooth and nonchalant, but her gaze was icy cold and sharp as needles. "That is the last thing we want, yes?"

Dropping his eyes to the cobblestone road, Murtagh avoided her pointed stare. "Indeed," he said more heavily than intended.

"We must all make sacrifices."

"So it is the way of the world."

Arya scanned the busy streets. The market was overcrowded. Varden members and Surdan citizens alike mingled together in a crowded, despite the early hour. "Many say that love is the most important thing in the world," Arya said. "But is it not because of love that we fight this war? To ensure that our decedents and those we cherish may have the chance at a better life? Love for many strangers is much nobler than selfish romantics, don't you think?"

Thorn hissed. He snapped his jaws warningly. _You don't have to rub it in his face. Murtagh is not ignorant. He knows the stakes are high, and unlike Eragon, he does not beg for love. So there is no need to be cruel._

"I was only making certain," Arya said evenly.

_And for the record, Arya, _Thorn continued, _Just because _you _turned away from love, doesn't mean everyone else has to._

Arya flinched slightly, just barely. She said nothing more.

_You didn't have to do that,_ Murtagh said irritably.

_You're embarrassed that I stood up for you? _

_Yes. Why didn't you just let it go? _

_She was being mean. _

_  
Two wrongs don't make a right. _

_Wise words, _Thorn observed.

So I've learned.

They waited for several minuets in an aching silence, until Nasauda came trotting out of the market. She wore a simple ridding dress, light brown in color and split down the sides from mid-thigh to ankle. Her cloak whirled gracefully in her wake. She blinked with surprise and then marched over looking very concerned. "Arya, you've only been gone a week. Has something gone wrong?"

"No, everything is well. I have left the egg at home with my family," Arya said. "They will watch over it safely until the Rider is chosen." She reached inside her tunic and took out a package wrapped in fine yellow silk and thin, colorful ribbons. "You have pleased us with your courtesy, and my mother wishes you to have this relic. It's called Vrîend'dräco."

Nasauda took the package warily. It was round and heavy in her hands. "The title is foreign to my knowledge," Arya continued. "But it is a very ancient relic and you would be wise to take good care of it. Its power is incredible, and its mysteries many. It has been in my family for many generations. Keep it with you at all times and it will protect you, as it has done for those of my house."

"Many thanks, Arya," Nasauda said. "I am deeply honored. The next time you are in Ellesméra, will your tell express my gratitude to your Queen?"

"I will."

Nasauda tugged at the colorful ribbons cautiously, as if expecting it to explode. But Arya stopped her. "Perhaps you should leave it. I have had to bind it because Vrîend'dräco's power is so incredible that were you to release it outside of Ellesméra Galbatorix would sense it. Just…keep it on your person at all times, and it will serve you well."

With a sweet smile, Nasuada tucked Vrîend'dräco into her dress pocket. "Again, thank you. I am deeply honored and I will carry this treasure with me at all times."

"Consider it a gift of friendship." Arya glanced at Murtagh quickly. "And you, you take good care of her. I'm in no mood to see the Varden loose another good leader."

"Death will take me first," Murtagh swore.

"But that won't be necessary," Nasauda said with certain confidence. "Because all three of us are coming back alive and unscathed."

Then let's be going, Thorn said. Before I grow a beard.

Murtagh laughed slightly. I wasn't aware that dragons could grow beards!

I might if we wait any longer.

That would be quite a sight, Murtagh mused before mounting himself into the saddle. Then he held his hand out to Nasauda. "Shall we?"

Nasauda looked up at him, accepted his hand, and smiled. Her touch was warm and welcoming. It made Murtagh's stomach squirm uneasily. "We shall," Nasauda agreed.

**A/N: **Okay, I've been lots of positive feedback from you wonderful reviewers. Especially concerning Thorn and the romantic tension. Thanks. I'm glad you like it. They'll be more of it, I promise, and I'll try not to let it 'overpower' my plot (even though this is a romance!)

Thnx for the reviews guys! I'm glad you like my portrayal of Thorn. Thorn and Murtagh…and Nasauda totally rock.


	10. Chapter 9

**A/N: **Someone suggested I put Murtagh and Nasauda in an awkward position to increase the tension. Well, I promised that I would, and here it is! (Although more awkwardness has yet to come ) It was terribly fun to write, so consider it a late Christmas present from me to you!

Happy New Year!

**Nine: **

**Play Among the Clouds**

He helped Nasauda into the saddle. As she settled in front of him, his stomach knotted nervously. Needless to say, Murtagh hid his unease quite well. After bidding Arya farewell, Thorn leapt eagerly off the ground with a stampeding charge, taking to the air with great enthusiasm. Nasauda gave a surprised squeak as they parted from the ground, lurching upward into a vast golden-blue sky.

She watched Aberon disappear as Thorn climbed higher and higher into the air. She laughed with delight. "This is wonderful," she said over the wind.

Murtagh forced a smile. "It is, isn't it?"

_Flying is the best thing in the world,_ Thorn added. _I don't know how you earth-bound creatures can put up without it. _

"If this is how a bird lives, then I would gladly trade my legs for wings," Nasauda said.

Murtagh agreed, though he wished he were back on the ground with at least a three-foot distance between them. It wasn't that he found her unpleasant (quite the contraire actually), it was just that he didn't know what to do with his hands. Should he keep them at his sides? Put them behind his head? Behind his back? Sit on them? He didn't have to hold on since his legs were fastened to the saddle, and Thorn would never let Nasauda fall off so long as they flew in a straight line. So then what was he supposed to do?

_You could relax,_ Thorn suggested. A mischievous glint gleamed in his ochre eyes. Then he suddenly rolled over and spiraled upwards. As soon as Nasauda began to slip from the saddle, Murtagh had no choice but to wrap his arms around her slender figure so she would not fall. To his surprise, she laughed.

_What are you doing? _Murtagh demanded angrily as Thorn leveled out. _There's no danger! _

_Just playing, _Thorn smirked.

_That wasn't funny! What if she had fallen? _

_You would never let her fall, _Thorn pointed out.

_This is cruel,_ Murtagh brooded. Yet it was a more pleasant torture than anything he had endured in Uru-baen.

"Um…" Nasauda said uncomfortably. "Murtagh, you can let go of me now."

He quickly snatched his hands away, mumbled a mortified apology, and felt his face go beat red. _You did that on purpose!_

_I did,_ Thorn admitted. _And I'll do it again._

He suddenly veered and rolled over onto his back, gliding upside down. _This isn't fair,_ Murtagh growled.

"What's he doing?" Nasauda asked.

_Entertaining myself,_ Thorn answered with a hint of mirth. _Flying in a straight line is rather boring. So I thought I'd…spice things up a bit. _He glided upside down for a while, despite Murtagh's protests.

The blood quickly flooded to Murtagh's head and he felt his mind grow dizzy. _Thorn!_

With an annoyed grumple, Thorn finally straightened out.

Relief flooded through Murtagh. He pulled away. "What's wrong?" Nasauda asked. 

"Nothing."

She looked up at him and smiled charmingly. "Do I make you nervous?"

Murtagh hesitated. "Yes."

Her smile grew. "You shouldn't be." She took his hands and placed them around her waist. Leaning back, she said, "I don't mind."

_Fate is laughing at me,_ Murtagh thought.

_You _are_ rather easy to tease._ He pulled upright into the sky and did several neat loops and other aerial acrobatics. _You don't like this, do you? _He asked with a touch of concern.

_No._

_I'll stop. _

They flew in silence for a while until Nasauda said, "We'll have to keep an eye out for Eragon. We'll either meet them along the way, or at Helgrind." She gently touched his hand, tracing the jagged scars tenderly. "Did he do this to you?"

"Who?"

"Galbatorix."

He suppressed a shudder, remembering Galbatorix's wrath. The haunting memories of hot, cherry-red irons, the scent of stale blood, and the unbearably searing pain always left him feeling sick. They haunted his thoughts, chilling his blood to an icy freeze. Still, he managed to swallow the ill sensation clawing at the base of his belly. He nodded. "It was my punishment…for letting Eragon go."

"A noble sacrifice. It's a shame you are not praised for it." Nasauda said with both sorrow and admiration. Her grip tightened encouragingly around his fingers and she held them close. "I am proud of you."

Murtagh bowed his head. "Thanks."

Thanks! Thorn cried. Is that all you can say?

Be quiet!

Thorn sighed. Humans were so funny sometimes. He flashed a grin, then rolled over once more. _And so easy to tease…_

**A/N:** Okay, more will happen in the next chapter I think. I was just messing around. Needed some fun time, you know?

Anyways, thanks reviewers!


	11. Chapter 10

**Eight**

**The Grove**

As the days went by, Surda's boarder quickly came and went. Soon Surda became nothing but a slender strip lining a melancholy horizon. As they drew further into Alagaësia, the skies lost their robin-egg hue, swallowed up by a dark, hungry overcast. The air was now damp, cold with a lingering scent of rain. Murtagh cursed at the weather. When Nasuada asked him what was wrong, he said, "The daylight might be the only advantage we have over the Ra'zac. But with this dreary overcast…I had hoped for a nice hot, sunny day."

Murtagh looked over the side of the saddle and pointed to a thin, muddy highway running tightly through a small copse. The road was laden with broken branches, leaves, and a few fallen trees. "There was a big storm here not too long ago," he said.

Continuing North, Murtagh noticed the consistent evidence of wrathful weather. He hoped the weather would stay relatively calm. Rain they could handle, but ferocious winds? _Even Thorn can't fly through that kind of weather. _

Despite Murtagh's concern, they came closer to Leona Lake within almost record time. It was dusk when Thorn landed along the lake's shoreline. They skies were still as gloomy as ever and in the distance, Helgrind's evil silhouette loomed ominously against the setting sun. "We'll wait here until midnight, as planned," Murtagh said, unsaddling Thorn. "Then we'll head to Helgrind."

"What about Eragon?" Nasauda asked. "We've been traveling for days and we've seen no sign of him or Saphira."

"We've either bypassed them, or they're already at Helgrind," said Murtagh. "After all, they did have a pretty good head start." He stared out across the lake. Leona's dark, glossy surface was smooth as black glass. The waters were undisturbed, unmoving. Emotionless. _A heart with no pulse. _

"Either way," said Nasuada. "We're going to kill that monster." She paused. "You don't think they've been captured, do you?"

Murtagh grunted. "He better not have."

For dinner they ate dried meat and bread. Fire was unnecessary since the smoke might attention; the night seemed darker without it. They ate in silence, anxiously waiting for the arrival of midnight. "Murtagh," Nasuada said quietly. He couldn't see her clearly, but he could tell that she was holding Vrîend'dräco.

"Yeah?"

"What does Vrîend'dräco mean?"

Murtagh frowned. He thought for a moment, thinking through his knowledge of the ancient language. However, he could not find the meaning. Then he remembered Arya saying that she didn't know what it meant either. "I don't know. I don't think it's a word in the ancient language, and the possibility of it being dwarf or Urgal is highly unlikely."

Nasauda rolled it around in her hands, examining the treasures' perfect shape. It was at least eight inches long and weighed only a few pounds and yet when she tapped it with her knuckle, it seemed hard as stone beneath the silk.

_Perhaps, _said Thorn. _It is a human word?_ His ochre eyes glowed like burning embers.

_It's not in my vocabulary,_ Murtagh replied.

Thorn nudged him playfully. _That's not what I meant, silly. Don't you think it might be a word from the desert-dwelling humans? _

_Maybe,_ Murtagh said. _But why would the elves call it a human name and not one from the ancient language?_

_How should I know? _Thorn said in a sarcastic voice. _I'm just an intelligent-fire-breathing-lizard-with-wings._

_Still, you might be right. Arya said that she herself didn't know what it meant. _

_I suppose we'll know soon enough. _

_Hurry,_ Eragon begged the sun, leaning against a tree. Morning seemed to be taking its sweet time as the three of them waited in the shelter of the little copse. Through the branches he could see Helgrind. An anxious chill ran up his spine. _Hell's ground,_ he thought grimly. Eragon didn't like being so close to the mountain and not doing anything. He glanced at Roran, whose abhorrence for the Empire was more than evident on his cold features.

He heard Saphira shift in the trees they hardly fit in between the trees. _Eragon,_ Saphira said with a sense of urgency. _Do you sense them?_

Eragon frowned, hand falling to his sword reflexively. _Who? The Ra'zac? _

Saphira hissed. _No, Murtagh and Thorn. They are near. I can sense them. _

_What are they doing here? _

_It's obvious, Eragon. Galbatorix wants Roran and us dead or alive. He must have sent them back to try again. _She swished her tail crossly, waking a helpless birch. She ignored it as it fell to the ground. _Traitors... _

_We can't fight Murtagh now,_ Eragon said heavily. _I'd rather avoid it if possible. His power suppresses our own and we already have the Ra'zac to worry about. But if he does get in the way, I will kill him. _

A large shadow drifted across the trees. Eragon looked up._ Too late._

Thorn glided over the copse once, circled, and landed in the middle of a tiny clearing. It was a tight squeeze, but he managed. Murtagh helped Nasauda out of the saddle. She said quietly, "Let me explain everything."

Murtagh shrugged. "I doubt anyone would listen to me."

Nasauda smiled slightly and touched his hand reassuringly. "A pity," she said softly and disappeared.

"Whyme?"Murtagh groaned and started off after her.

_There are many reasons why,_ said Thorn.

Murtagh ignored him. _Aren't you coming with us? _

With a spiny tail, Thorn pointed to the narrow to the trees. _I don't think I can fit. Not without plowing through those twigs. _

_Are you sure? _

_Maybe. But I might have to loose a few pounds. _

Murtagh laughed lightly. _Be careful. _

_Be wise,_ Thorn replied.

Reluctantly, Murtagh followed Nasuada into the grove. He regretted leaving Thorn alone so close to Helgrind and the Ra'zac.

The trees rustled slightly. The sound of a sword being drawn rang through the night followed by a low growl. Nasauda halted. Straightening up, she called, "Put that away, Eragon."

There was a moment of silence. "Nasuada?" both Roran and Eragon called sounding bewildered.

Murtagh rolled his eyes, but he said nothing.

"It is I," Nasauda said and stepped out of trees, head held high. "And I have brought allies."

Eragon's grip tightened on the hilt of his sword. Anger washed over his elf-like features. Saphira hissed. "What are _you_ doing here? And what are you doing with Nasauda?"

"Murtagh and I have come to help you with your rescue, and to kill a monster," Nasauda said smoothly.

Eragon pointed to Murtagh with the tip of his sword. Suspicious clouded his eyes. They stared each other down with unwavering gazes. "You trust him?" Eragon spat. "After what he did? Nasauda he's working for Galbatorix and he betrayed the Varden!"

"Murtagh has freed himself. He has promised follow my cause and I have asked him to come." She then explained everything that had taken place since Murtagh's freedom.

When she was finished, Eragon thought for a moment, chewing on her words with apprehension. "You've promised to follow Nasauda's cause? Truthfully?"

A shadow fell over Murtagh's face. "I'm not going back if that's what you mean. Galbatorix enslaved us. We suffered under his rule for almost a year." He smiled wryly. This time, he spoke in the ancient language." I want vengeance for everything I went through in Uru-baen. His head is _mine,_ Eragon."

"Good," Roran said, glancing up at the sky. He fingered his hammer anxiously. "I don't know much about you, and I don't understand this 'true name thing,' but time is running out for Katrina. And any enemy of the Empire is my ally."

"But—" Eragon started.

"But nothing, Eragon," Roran said coldly. "We don't have time argue. Once we rescue Katrina and are far away from Helgrind, _then_ I will decide whether or not to trust him." And he said no more on the matter.

**A/N: **This chapter was hard to write. I had no idea what I was going to do. Now that I have it figured out though, things should be fine. I know I promised it would be exciting, but I promise, next chapter things will get fun. Lots of action.

Anyways, I'm very disappointed because I just finished reading an interview of the _Eragon Movie _cast members and Murtagh didn't get crap of recognition! What's going on here? Eragon may be the main character, but Murtagh is _way _cooler than his baby bro any day of the week…I don't think they even mentioned Nasauda. I say that if there's going to be a sequel, Murtagh had better get more interviews…grrr…


	12. Chapter 11

**A/N: **OMG! 118 reviews! Holy crap…someone call an ambulance because I think I just had a heart attack! Thanks my loyal reviewers! For those of who have bestowed upon me an unusual amount of praise, thanks!

I apologize for not updating in so long. I've been grounded for the past week and have been unable to access the Internet. I'll try not to let it happen again, though some things can't be helped.

'Scoal' is an Irish word that means 'discharge, loosen, unleash, and fire!' It sounded suitable enough for this chapter.

Thnx my beloved reviewers!

**Eleven**

**  
Scoal!**

Nasuada smiled. "Thank you," she said. "Now that that's settled, we should make haste for the sun halts for no man."

"Don't we _want _the sun to come up?" Eragon asked. "The Ra'zac are weakest during the daylight."

Murtagh snorted. "No. We're going to lure them _out_ of Helgrind, Eragon. If we can get most of the Ra'zac out of Helgrind, then rescuing Katrina and killing that monster will be less of a hassle. But once dawn splits the horizon, I doubt anything could chase them away from their evil sanctuary."

"There could hundreds of Ra'zac in there," Roran said, his frown deepening. "How are we going to lure them out?"

Nasauda held up two slender cylinder-shaped sticks, as long as Murtagh's palm. "We do so with these. It's called dynamite. It is a highly volatile tool when in flammable contact, and awfully dangerous, yet apparently very useful according King Orrin."

Roran crossed his arms disapprovingly. "Useful," he agreed with a callous expression, "But dangerous. Don't get me wrong, blowing the Ra'zac to smithereens seems a wonderful idea, but I will not put Katrina in any further danger than she is already in." There was something in his voice, a cold, aggrieved detachment that made Murtagh wonder if there was anything in existence that Roran held dearer to his heart.

"Of course not," Nasauda said. "If we were to plant the dynamite inside, odds-on it would put Katrina in grave danger. It might also kill our fiend, which unfortunately Murtagh must slay himself. Therefore, we have devised another plan: There will be two explosions— both of which will erupt on the outside of Helgrind— and will be small enough so that the mountain will not cave in, but big enough to threaten the Ra'zac. King Orrin himself made the calculations. Finally, I have found a use for his interest in natural philosophy!"

There are three entrances to Helgrind," Murtagh continued. "The first is hidden behind a slab of stone, the second happens to be a wide tunnel that leads from Helgrind to Dras-Leona, and as for the third, there is a wide cave mouth at the peak which can only be accessed through flight. That will be our escape route."

Eragon opened his mouth as if to give some cynical remark, but seemed to decide against it. "How do we know that once the Ra'zac are out, they'll _stay _out? Won't they come filing back in once they realize we're there?"

"They will try, but I am putting barriers on all entrances that will allow us to leave, but will also keep out our foes. That way, we can accomplish what we came here for with diminutive struggle."

A sudden ferocious roar tore through the dark morning, pursued by an uproar of frenzied shouts. An icy chill ran poisoned Murtagh's blood. _Thorn!_

_Murtagh,_ _stay there,_ Thorn said urgently.

_What's wrong? _

_Just stay there, _Thorn snapped. He then retreated from Murtagh's mind, barricading their link, and leaving Murtagh alone in a frosty silence. There was one last roar before the cries of men suddenly dissipated. A dry wind stirred the trees. No one moved. Even the grasshoppers had quite their early chirping.

Murtagh swallowed a fearful lump wedged in his throat. _Thorn?_ There was no answer. He suddenly felt very alone.

"What's wrong?" Nasauda asked worriedly.

Murtagh shook his head. "I don't know," he answered, voice tight. "He said to stay here." Panic gnawed at his gut. _Thorn?_

Nothing.

Fearing the worst, He was prepared to charge off into the trees, regardless of whatever danger might lurk ahead, when he heard a loud crunch. Birch and alders shivered. Saphira let out a narrow hiss. Then, with a mighty snarl, Thorn tore through the coppice, snapping his jaws at a thin alder and splitting it in half. He snorted irritably, blowing puffs of black smoke. _I hate trees! _

Relief washed over Murtagh. _Are you hurt? What happened? Tell me!_

Ruffling his wings, Thorn announced, _I just thought you might like to know that a dozen soldiers made the unfortunate mistake of crossing paths with me. _He belched a satisfied stream of flames. _I am afraid that all but one escaped. _

_You scared me,_ Murtagh confessed. _You're unhurt?_

_Sorry to have frightened you. _He nosed Murtagh reassuringly. _And you need not worry for I am well. _Then he spotted Saphira. Ochre eyes gleamed jestingly, he seemed to be smiling. He lowered his gaze to Eragon, arching his long, spiny neck. _You are Arrogant, are you not? _

Eragon blinked, surprise, and shifted uneasily._ Come again?_

_Arrogant. Is that not your name?_

Saphira peered over Eragon's shoulder, barring her pointed teeth threateningly. _His name is _Eragon,she corrected with a dangerous growl. _You would do well not to insult my Rider._

_And _you_ would do well not to take my jokes so heavily. _

_Your jokes are not funny._

Thorn hummed contently, despite Saphira's coldness. _One day Saphira, I will get you to laugh. I promise. _Then he returned to Murtagh's side. _I like her, _he said.

Murtagh tried not laugh. _I could tell. _

**

* * *

**

Dawn was rapidly approaching. As the night's deep navy hue lightened, they carefully traveled westward under the shelter of trees. Unfortunately, both Thorn and Saphira had difficulty moving considering the span of their bulk and the thin gaps between tree and underbrush. Their wings often became tangled up in the foliage, and they could not fly for fear of exposing themselves to the Ra'zac.

Picking his way over a broken log, Eragon said lowly, "Why are you doing this?"

"You mean why am I here?" Murtagh replied coldly. "It's not for some brotherly love, if that's what you think. I am here only because Nasauda wants me to kill that monster."

"But why? You've made it very clear that no one's life is more important than yours or Thorn's. Surely Galbatorix is furious with you. You've not only broken your oaths, but you've stolen his last dragon egg. He'll be thirsting for your blood the moment he learns the truth, if he hasn't already. So then what reason do you have to risk your life and that of your dragon? Tell me now, Murtagh, for I cannot, and will not, trust you until I know why."

_He does have a point, _Thorn said, scales bristling as his wings became ensnared again. He snapped irritably at the branches, peeling them off the trees.

_Your legs move as slow as a snail, Tree-Slayer! _Saphira said from behind, stamping her talons impatiently. _Stop biting the trees and move! _

Thorn curved his neck around an alder to face Sapphira and huffed. _The only reason you are moving more easily than me is because I am the one plowing the way!_

Murtagh shook his head. He muttered, "Beinn!" And the trees around them all leaned backwards, freeing Thorn and creating a wide pathway through the wood.

"Impressive," Eragon said, "but you still haven't given me an answer."

Murtagh avoided his gaze. "I told you, I want revenge." His voice was low and heavy, cold as stone. "You cannot even begin to comprehend the meaning of true agony." He forced a hollow laugh. "Besides, where else am I going to go? My life is in danger no matter where I go. The world shuns me, Eragon, the dwarves curse my name, I am an outlaw of the Empire, and all except Nasuada believes my soul is evil."

Eragon looked at him with slight apology. "But what reason do you have to follow the Varden? Don't you think they'll try to control you too? Aren't you afraid of becoming their puppet?"

Murtagh shrugged. "They cannot and will not control me," he said, "because I am a free man. My will is my only law…and I have freely sworn to follow under no commander except Nasauda. I know Nasauda will not make me her marionette and I trust her judgment more than any other man on this earth. I have no reason to love the Varden for they would hang me at the gallows if it were not for her. I would not choose sides because no one would take mine. And yet Nasauda has shown me more mercy than I probably deserve. I have never received such kindness from anyone." He paused hesitantly. "And for that I will gladly obey. My will is now hers."

Nasauda suddenly appeared behind him. "My that was a lovely speech," she said. "You flatter me, Murtagh, really you do. But I am fear that the sun is stirring and unless he is feeling idle this morning, dawn will not wait for us. Let's go before Roran has a heart attack!"

They continued west more quickly now that Thorn and Saphira could keep moving. Trekking further west, the ground began to stipend, rolling up into a sharp hill where the trees thinned. At last, they reached the rise, where a perfect view of Helgrind awaited them. The hill rose over the grove just enough to keep them hidden, yet still provide them a view of both entrances: the one at base, the veiled to cleverly resemble the mountain's black stone, and the cave at the peak.

Nasauda glanced around at the group. "Are we ready?"

"Aye." They replied in grim unison.

Content, she nodded to Murtagh. "Would you do the honor?"

"It would be a pleasure." Murtagh faced the mountain; the essence of evil tainted the surrounding area like a black, pulsing heart. He could not help the uneasiness wedged at the back of his conscious, whispering echoes of all his fears. Yet he was determined to succeed. Failure was not an option. He held up his hand that bore his Rider's mark and uttered a single command:

"Scoal!"

In an instant, Helgrin'd eastern slopes erupted with a hellish fire. A monstrous boom shattered the sky. The earth trembled. All at once, half of Helgrind was consumed in a single colossal cloud, brewed sinisterly with black smoke, crimson, and hungry orange flames. Flaming chunks of rock soared through the air, tails of raging fire gleaming. The whole went silent. Even the insects inhabiting the wood went silent. No one moved.

They waited anxiously in the dark. Moments passed that seemed to be forever. Finally a few Ra'zac and their nightmarish steeds emerged from the gray smoke, tiny black dots buzzing around in the smoke. However, instead of fleeing, they circled the mountain, carefully examining the shattered crags.

"Again!" Nasuada commanded as the Ra'zac soared close to the western side.

The second explosion happened in the same manner. This time, in the aftermath of the blast, a black swarm flooded out of Helgrind's base. They split into three groups, flooding the countryside in all directions. Soon the Ra'zac on their flying mounts joined them, pouring out of the jagged peak like a plague of black locus.

"They know we're here," Murtagh said, alarmed. "Look at their patterns; they're not running away in terror, they're scattering to find the enemy!

"Then there are probably others waiting inside for us," Eragon said.

Nasuada drew her sword. "This is our chance," she said quickly. "Let's go!"

* * *

**A/N:** Okay, don't ask me how they planted they planted dynamite around Helgrind without the Ra'zac noticing. They just did. But who cares? I hated writing this chapter. Maybe the next one will be more fun….

Beinn is a word that I made up due to my lack of knowledge for the ancient language. Mr. P should write a dictionary on his ancient language to give us fanfic authors a break!

Thanks again reviewers!


	13. Chapter 12

**Neglected Disclaimer: **Alrighty, I seemed to have forgotten my disclaimer. Just so Mr. P doesn't get mad and try to sue me, I don't own any of his characters/people/ideas, no matter how brilliant or outstanding. So basically everything that was in the books is not mine, I don't own, leave me alone!

Anyways, thanks reviewers!

* * *

**Twelve**

**Into Hell's Ground**

Murtagh glanced behind him. The Ra'zac had already vanished into the countryside, and the ones who rode on their flying mounds had disappeared somewhere in the misty clouds. _It's a good thing we left when we did. They would have hid to the shadows and plotted an ambush._

_There may already be an ambush waiting for us,_ Thorn said. An evil hiss came from behind. A group of Ra'zac appeared out of the clouds, the lethrblaka tailing in Thorn's wake, weapons brandished. _Told you._

Murtagh growled. Nasuada pulled out her bow, but Murtagh stopped her. "Don't waste your arrows just yet." He waved a hand at the lethrblaka saying, "Thrysta vindr." A giant ball of powerful air shot from his palm, slamming into the lethrblaka. They gave a horrible shriek, spiraling out of control.

Nasuada gave him a curious glance. "Interesting," she said.

Another group of lethrblaka pulled out in front of them, but instead of attacking Thorn, they dove towards Saphira. They surrounded Saphira, making it difficult for her to maneuver their harsh blows. _Hold on,_ Thorn advised. Folding his leather red wings around his chest, he plummeted towards the Ra'zac, and then plowed through them, spewing a violent flow of flames. Again, the Ra'zac gave another series of hideous screeches, their black bodies devoured by ravenous inferno.

_Did you miss me?_ Thorn asked, kicking at a lethrblaka who had snuck up beneath his belly.

_Hardly, _Saphira replied.

_Hardly is better than not at all, _Thorn told her.

_Precisely. _

Another swarm of lethrblaka surfaced out of the clouds. "Eragon," Nasuada shouted over the wind, notching an arrow to her bow. "I want you to land and find the entrance. We'll keep them distracted for you so hurry!"

Eragon glanced behind them and cursed at the stream of lethrblaka trailing in their wake like a blur of livid wasps. "Don't get yourselves killed," he shouted back before parting paths.

Thorn pulled up away from Helgrind, leading the Ra'zac towards Dras-Leona. He led them in wide ally loops, spiraling up and down, rapidly evading their attacks with his erratic dance. It went on this way for minuets, long, painstakingly slow minuets.

_Hurry it up, Eragon!_ Murtagh shouted his mind, furious. As tough as Thorn was, Murtagh knew that not even he could not out-fly so many. The Ra'zac and their nightmare mounts were gaining on them with every passing second. It was all Murtagh could do to keep them at bay using magic, but every time he set a cluster of Ra'zac on fire or spiraling out of control, a dozen more would take their place. Nasuada helped too, whenever she could, by picking them off one by one with her deadly arrows.

_We can't find the door or lever!_ Eragon replied at last.

_You idiot!_ He flung his hand at the Ra'zac who were gaining speed and sent them spiraling out of control as he had done before. Yet still, many more remained. _If we die because your eyes are made of stone—_

_Found it! _

"They found the door," Murtagh said.

_About time,_ Thorn grumbled. _Is it open?_

Murtagh relayed the question. After a brief moment, Eragon said, _It is now. _

Thorn suddenly swerved to the left, veering off towards the mountain. When Saphira, Eragon, and Roran could be seen as two specks and one big blue dot standing at the entrance—a large arching black hole in the mountain's shoulder—Thorn pulled up sharply. _Brace yourself, _he warned. Murtagh sheathed his sword at once and wrapped his arms firmly around Nasuada. "Lean forward," he told her.

"Why—"

Without warning, Thorn twisted sharply, folding his wings at his sides and dive-bombed head long towards the threshold, gaining speed rapidly, twisting and curling in corkscrew motions. Murtagh laughed freely, feeling the exhilaration of plummeting towards the earth at such incredible speed. As always, it left his heart racing with an unexpected thrill.

Thorn carefully angled himself into a forty-five degree angle. Only when he was ten feet off the soil, did he unfurl his wings, the tip of his left wing skimming gently across the soft soil. _Get out of the way, _Thorn roared, bolting steadfast towards the entrance, his speed unyielding. Both Murtagh and Nasuada had to duck to avoid smashing their skulls against the stone. Darkness engulfed them as Thorn skidded to a stop. Murtagh was almost out of the saddle before Thorn touched the ground.

Sword drawn, Murtagh rushed to the doorway. He waited until Eragon and Saphira were inside with Roran in tow before commanding in the ancient language, "Bar the thresholds!" There was a flash of red as the black stream of lethrblaka smashed against the barriers with obstinate force. The next thing Murtagh knew, he was lying on the ground, ears ringing.

"Are you alright?" Nasuada asked, helping him up. The red blaze left an eerie red glow against her earthy skin.

Murtagh shrugged, eyeing the dozens of lethrblaka that lay scattered barrier's outside, their bodies broken and smashed from the impact. "I'm alive."

"I suppose that's one way to kill dozens of lethrblaka," Eragon said reflectively. Then he went to Saphira's saddle and dug out two woolen scarves, like the ones he and Roran were wearing, and handed them to Nasuada. "To cover your mouth and nose with," he explained, "so the Ra'zac's breath won't effect you as much."

Nasuada accepted them with a thoughtful expression. Then she turned to Murtagh. "An excellent idea," she said with a warm smile, placing one of the scarves around his neck. "Wouldn't you agree, Murtagh?"

"A fine strategy," Murtagh agreed, the edges of lips quirking slightly. He was about to add something else, when he was suddenly aware of Roran and Eragon's presence. He cleared his throat instead. "We should be going."

"Of course," Nasauda said. "I'll get the lanterns."

Roran shook his head, shifting his gaze further into the darkness.

"What?" Murtagh hissed at Eragon's lingering stare.

Eragon smiled slightly and shrugged. "I didn't say anything."

Thorn opened his mouth, flahsing a rows of ivory fangs, and laughed a hoarse, rumbling sound. _You're just mad because you got caught flirting with Nasuada in public. _

_I wasn't flirting,_ Murtagh said, scowling at his own humiliation. _I didn't get the chance to. _

_Oh, the wonders of an adrenaline rush!_

_It's not funny, Thorn. _

_No, it is very delightful. You just have a bad sense of humor. _

"Murtagh," Nasuada called from ahead as they started to leave without him. "Are you coming?"

Muttering under his breath, Murtagh started after her. He shot Thorn a narrow glance, whose glowing ochre eyes burned in the darkness, tarried with a hint of amusement. _It's not funny, _Murtagh said.

Thorn hummed. _Focus, Murtagh. We're inside Helgrind now._

They traveled through an endless void of darkness to which there seemed to be no end. The air grew colder the further they ventured into Helgrind's wide, arching tunnels. The darkness grew thicker, heavy with a deafening silence. Everyone was on the tip of their toes, expecting the Ra'zac to jump out of the shadows at any moment. Yet, an ambush never came.

_They'll come, _Murtagh thought, gripping his sword tightly with icy hands. _They'll come when we least expect it. _

Eragon, who was in the lead, came to a sudden stop as the tunnel finally ended, splitting into two stairwells. One wound up to the higher reaches of Helgrind, and the other deep into a hellishabyss.Murtagh felt the air stir with a hollow moan, the stench of evil brushing against his face. He cringened and instantly knew that Gonoszság Sk_ämd _lay somewhere down there where light dared not shine, amongst the nightmares of humankind.

"Now what?" Eragon said. "Should we split up?"

"We'll cover more ground that way," Nasuada said.

"You three go up," Murtagh said, not taking his eyes off the stairwell. "Thorn and I will go down. We'll meet at the peak."

"You're going alone?" Eragon asked. "Is that wise?"

Murtagh gestured to the stairwell. "That fiend Orik spoke of is somewhere down there. I intend to kill it. This is my ordeal, and I would like to take care of it alone."

To his surprise, Nasuada said quietly, "If that's what you want, then I won't stop you."

"It is."

Eragon bit his lip. "Kill it yourself, if you want," he said. "But at least tell us when you find it. Just in case."

"Fine by me."

Roran and Eragon wished him luck before departing. Only Nasauda remained, lingering in the shadows. Murtagh could hardly see her in the lantern's dim, flickering yellow light. "We'll meet you at the top," Murtagh said, turning to leave.

Nasuada caught him on the sleeve. "Murtagh," she said softly, laying a slender hand on his cheek. Her hand was incredibly cold. She unexpectedly reached up and kissed him lightly; a tender caress of the lips. She parted with a smile and murmured, "Don't die."

Then she was gone, vanished amongst a cloud of hungry darkness.

* * *

**A/N: **Okay, this was the last thing I expected to end this fic with. Oh well. Some of reviewers asked for it, so I guess I kind of complied. Anyways, Helgrind is almost done with. Yay! 

Thanks for the reviews!


	14. Chapter 13

**A/N:** Okay, to clear up a misunderstanding that is completely my fault for being sleep deprived, this fic is **not** going to end for a long time. Why? Because one: I can't end it here and now. (Too many empty plot-holes) And two: I like Murtagh and Nasuada way too much to end it now. Anyways, it was two in the morning when I wrote that author's note.

And also, "Simple Simone" is a children's poem out of Mother Goose. I ha

Anyways, thanks reviewers! You brightened my day!

Thirteen The Epitome of Evil 

With Thorn at his heals, Murtagh followed the winding stairwell through the depths of an endless black void. As the ventured further away from the sun, the darkness grew heavier, and the sharp cold that stung Murtagh's eyes, penetrating his cloak and scarf, increased to an arctic chill. The air was stale, sullied by odor of rotten corpses, haunted by the lingering essence of a thousand terrible sins. Time stood still in a vast, eternal night, abandoned by the warmth of life. The very concept of hope seemed only a fragmented memory, drowned amid a vast sea of despair.

_I feel as if I am walking through death, _Murtagh thought bleakly. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword in one hand, and the lantern's wire handle in the other, with fingers cold as stone. The oil lantern helped guide the way down the stairwell only a little, its dull yellow glow casting playful shadows on walls. _If ever there was an underworld, then surely this was it._

Murtagh began to wonder what sort of monster awaited him at the end of the tunnel. Even the Riders of old were unable to exterminate it. So what made him so sure _he _could kill it when so many had failed?

_Doubt is as formidable an enemy as the Empire, _said Thorn. His ivory claws clicked against the onyx stairs. _Keep warm thoughts close your heart, and it will never fail you. _

_My thoughts are never warm, _Murtagh replied. His stomach suddenly heaved, squirming with protest at the sudden, horrendous odor seeping through the woolen scarf. It was as if he were standing among a battlefield of decayed bodies, baked beneath a blazing sun. _What is that smell?_

_The tunnel has ended._

Swallowing bitter bile, Murtagh took a step forward.

_Crunch. _

Freezing water spilled into his boots. The stairs ended abruptly at the edge of a black lake, stretching across a giant cavern into a haze of blinding shadows. The water's surface was encrusted with a thin sheet of ice.

Murtagh pulled his feet out quickly. As he did so, his foot touched something: a bleached white skull. _Now what? _He asked, searching the darkness, but his eyes could not pick out where the lake ended. Murtagh was sorely aware of the numbness clawing at his soaked feet, but he paid no heed.

_This is an underground sinkhole, _said Thorn. _It has no bottom, but there is a wide bank on the other side with an ironclad door. I can fly us across._

Murtagh turned and as he did, a giant pair of long, curving claws reached up out of the inky waters, seized him by the shoulders, and wrenched him backwards into the icy waters.

Murtagh hardly had any time to react, stunned momentarily by the water's arctic chill. Murtagh struggled to get free, his sword was lost and he was unable to use the ancient language under water. Wiggling his arms frantically to his belt, Murtagh finally managed to find his hunting knife. Fumbling in the darkness, he thrust it into the monster's bony wrist.

The monster gave and ugly hiss and dug its claws deeper into Murtagh's shoulders, squeezing the air out of his lungs. Searing white pain shot through his collarbone and ribcage. Murtagh choked on pain and water. Then the monster recoiled, letting him drift into a nightly chasm, vanishing as if it had never existed. Murtagh tried to move but his arms and legs were heavy as lead, the marrow in his hollow bones had frozen.

Murtagh's lungs begged for air.

His heart throbbed in his ears, and he could do nothing about it.

Sinking into a sullen twilight, as death slowly reached out to him from the abyss with long crooked fingers, Murtagh heard—or thought he heard—the sound of a bells and a cackling laughter. Slipping into unconsciousness, he remembered Galbatorix's jester; his crude, stone-cut face, pasted white and streaked black across wild eyes. He chanted snidely:

_Simple Simone went a poaching,_

_For to catch some game._

_A mantrap caught him by the leg _

_And gave poor Simone pain…_

Something grabbed at Murtagh's tunic, dragging him down with obstinate speed…or was it pulling him up, away from the clutches of death?

_Simple Simone…_

"Katrina should be around here somewhere," Roran said, staring down the empty corridors. Every now and then they came to a small cavern, empty except for old bones. The more bones they saw, the more Roran began to panic. "You don't think they…" he gulped. "You know?"

"No," said Nasuada. "They were using her as live bait to capture you. Sort of like the way lions are hunted and killed. They wouldn't have killed Katrina."

"And," Eragon added, "Have I not scryed her every night since we left Surda?"

"But what if the Ra'zac took Katrina with them? What if we failed? What if—"

Nasuada reached up tugged Roran's collar gently. "You men are all alike," she told him. "Always worrying. Always asking, 'What if this?' 'What if that?' We women much are stronger than you think."

"Arya said something like that," said Eragon.

Nasuada turned and eyed him sharply. "I was agreeing with you," Eragon said quickly. Then he frowned suddenly, his eyebrows met, and he inclined his head with thoughtful concern.

"What's wrong?" Roran asked.

"They found Gonoszság Skämd. well, it sort of found them. Murtagh was dragged underwater, and Thorn had to get him out."

Anxiety clawed at Nasuada's stomach. _And here I was, lecturing Roran! _She regretfully ignored the feeling, and said calmly, "Underwater?"

"Thorn says it, the monster that is, lives in a sinkhole and it took them by surprise."

"But Murtagh's a Rider," said Roran with some impatience. "A measly element like water shouldn't be a problem for Galbatorix's all-powerful-apprentice, right?"

"Do you feel how cold the air is? Think about how cold it must be _below_ ground. That water must be freezing, and if Murtagh is all wet he could go from Murtagh the Rider to Murtagh the Popsicle."

"Is he conscious?" Nasuada asked, shooting Roran a narrow glance.

"Somewhat."

"Then he'll have to suffice for now. He will have to stand on his own until he slays Gonoszság Skämd." She had to force the words out of her mouth, leaving a sour taste at the tip of her tongue. Nasuada would have liked nothing more than to help.

Eragon looked at her as if she had spontaneously turned into a toad. "You don't want to help him?"

Nasuada smiled weakly. "It isn't about wanting to," she said softly. "This is something Murtagh has to do alone. He would be angry if we rushed to his aid this very moment."

"Katrina!"

Both Eragon and Nasuada exchanged glances. They rushed forward until they found Roran in the corner of a small cavern, crouched low over a limp figure. "She's still alive," he whispered, stroking Katrina's cheek. Her dress was dirty and ragged. She hung flaccidly against the wall, suspended by thick chains. Eragon touched the cuffs binding Katrina's swollen wrists, muttered a few words, and Katrina was released.

_Breathe!_ Thorn commanded, gently pressing the heel of his giant foot into Murtagh's stomach. 

Murtagh coughed, spitting out the water that had flooded his lungs. His throat and lungs burned. He rolled over, shaking violently, gasping for air. When Murtagh caught he his breath at last, Thorn laid his sword down.

_Arm yourself,_ said Thorn, glancing towards the sinkhole. His ochre eyes burned like pools of liquidated fire in the veil of darkness. _It is hungry. _

Murtagh followed his gaze, but only saw darkness. He shuddered suddenly and groaned. Every muscle and tendon in his body ached painfully, his head throbbed, and his bones rattled with an unbearable cold. The cold was so crippling, so unbearable, that he considered giving up on his ambition to kill Gonoszság Skämd.

Forcing those thoughts aside tried, Murtagh to summon a spell to warm his chilled body, but the words of the ancient language were jumbled up, almost unintelligible. Then he gave up. His thoughts were too clouded, his sensibility numb. _I can't do this,_ Murtagh thought dismally, teeth chattering so loud it hurt.

_You must,_ said Thorn. _The Varden and the dwarves expect it of you._

_Maybe if I was warm and dry, but not…not like this. It's so cold!_

_But what will Nasuada say? She will be very disappointed if you come back empty handed. _

_Thorn, how can I kill it? It lives underwater and I can't even see. And that thing killed so many…even the old Riders couldn't slay it. How can I expect to succeed alone when so many others failed? _

There was a loud crunch, the sound of ice being split in two. Thorn growled. _You won't have to fight it underwater_, he said. _Blood-thirst and hunger is enough to draw it out of its errant sanctuary. And you will not have to fight alone. I will be right here with you. _

Despite his body's pleas, Murtagh pushed himself to his knees. Thorn was right; giving up would solve nothing. This was something he _had _to do if he wanted to prove himself to the Varden…_for_ _Nasauda_. "Let me feel no cold," he muttered in the ancient language, finally able to locate the words. Murtagh felt the cold retreat from his body, as if the spell were sucking the icicles from his veins. He was neither cold, nor warm, yet he still trembled fiercely. His muscles still ached, his head vibrated, his bones rattled desperately…it was as if he were still suffering from the symptoms of freezing, yet without feeling the cold itself. And Murtagh could not think why it was so.

Gripping the hilt of his sword, Murtagh forced himself to his feet. The water swirled. A low, venomous snarl ricocheted off the glazed waters. The sound made Murtagh's skin crawl. _I can do this, _Murtagh thought, waiting silently in the dark. It was there. He knew it was there. And although Murtagh was blind to surroundings, he could just imagine the epitome of evil— a demonic beast wrought from all the twisted sins in the world, with matted brown hair, long curling horns, and black lips curled back in a nasty snarl, revealing myriad rows of pointed, yellow teeth. He saw it in his head, slowly creeping out of the hellhole from whence all evil came. Reality, though, was much more frightening. All he could see was the wickedness reflected in those slanted red eyes. Those eyes bore into his mind like hot irons against tender flesh. And that smell! That sordid reek of rot and death! Murtagh clapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes and nose stinging from the stomach-wrenching odor.

_It comes! _Thorn suddenly shoved him out of the way. Without question, he hurtled himself towards Gonoszság Skämd, tackling it with all his strength. Dragon and beast brawled, jaws interlocked in a contest of bestial strength.

Scrambling to his feet, Murtagh fumbled for his sword. He heard the snarls, but he couldn't tell which was Thorn and which was Gonoszság Skämd. _Where are you? _Murtagh demanded, unwilling to risk accidentally killing his dragon. _Thorn! _

As if in answer, Thorn belched a wild river of fire, showering Gonoszság Skämd in crimson embers. Seizing the opportunity, Murtagh manipulated the flames, directing stroking the conflagration, wrapping the blaze all around Gonoszság Skämd until it was consumed in a giant firestorm, creating a nightmare's vision of a most hellish demon.

The monster howled with rage, and then with a sweltering set of claws it lashed out at Murtagh. He ducked reflexively and stabbed right beneath the monster's arm, digging his blade into the beast's massive torso, probing for the heart of all of sins. Gonoszság Skämd shrieked, furious. It struck at him again, but Murtagh dodged, yanking out his sword from an unholy sheath. He cut, jabbed, and parried in a maddened frenzy, dodging blows and striking whenever possible with feverish zeal. His mind worked in a haze, his hands and feet seemed to move on their own, driven by only his will to succeed.

Thus it went on for what seemed to be forever, until Murtagh stumbled. His knees gave in and he fell back. Gonoszság Skämd came upon him like a cat pouncing on a helpless mouse. Murtagh saw it coming, summoning up the last of his strength, he plunged the sword between the monster's eyes. Murtagh was enveloped in the monster's hot, reeking breath.

Murtagh choked.

Then an unseen force pulled him back, dragging him backwards across the stone floor. And the last thing he remembered were those evil red eyes, and that horrible, horrible stench.

**A/N: **Finally! A crappie ending, but I don't really care. At least now I can finally wrap up Helgrind and we can head back to Surda soon...one more chapter. Anyways, I think in the next chapter we'll finally get to see what Vrîend'dräco is…maybe.

Happy Valentines Day! I did have something planned for V-day, but I think it'll be a little late…oh well, thanks again Reviewers!


	15. Chapter 14

1**A/N: **Aw! Thanks reviewers! I'm so glad you liked Chapter 13. It's nice to know that all the hard work I put into it paid off! Okay, so I lied. We won't find out what Vrîend'dräco in this chapter. I was going to, but I had some major writer's block…

But you can still keep reviewing!

* * *

**Fourteen**

**  
Escape**

_Pain. _

_That was all Murtagh was aware of. Burning, mind numbing pain. He lay in an eagle spread, unable to move as hot irons and cherry red pincers pressed against his bare chest and arms, cauterizing tissue and muscle. An unseen force pressed his limbs against the table, rendering Murtagh immobile. He would have screamed, but his tongue was numb and hanging limply behind his teeth while the dungeon master stroked ruby embers with an iron fork. _

_Galbatorix leaned over him, his shrill black eyes dancing in the hearth's crimson glow. Then he whispered in Murtagh's ear, "You have failed me." Murtagh flinched at the sound of his own bones cracking, shooting hot, scathing white pain through his knee. "Will you fail me again?" _

_The strain on his knee increased. Murtagh remained silent, despite his anguish. _

_Galbatorix sneered. "Then to the grave with you!" _

_The table lurched, flinging Murtagh into the hallow mouth of a black abyss among a sea of half rotten corpses. The dead watched Murtagh enviously with hallow eyes, clawing at him with skeletal fingers, their gowns and tunics were muddied with dirt and blood, and the flesh half hung off exposed bones. Still unable to move, Murtagh squeezed his eyes shut while the dead tried to tear the life from him. _

_They whispered things in his ears, calling out his name with ghostly voices in unintelligible choruses. A giant skeletal dragon suddenly rose up out of the corpses, flames licking its yellow frame._

"_Murtagh!" _

Murtagh jerked upright, terror chilling his insides. Someone touched his arm, which startled him, and without thinking he jammed his elbow into Eragon's ribs. "Hey!" Eragon gasped. "What was that for?"

It took Murtagh a moment to realize that the nightmare had ended, and that he was sitting the cavern on the bank with Thorn and Eragon. _It was a dream? But it had seemed so real, _he thought, confused. His heart still raced and his thoughts were garbled and unclear— they swam around in his throbbing head like a school of confused fish.

_Just a dream, _said Thorn.

"Are you all right?" Eragon asked, watching him with concern.

Murtagh gritted his teeth. "Well enough." But it was a lie. His whole body ached, his stomach felt ill, his cloths were drenched in water and blood, and his knee felt like it had been smashed.

Eragon seemed hardly convinced. He said quickly, "Are you injured badly?"

"Well I'm not dead."

"Seriously Murtagh. Nasuada will have me stuffed and mounted on her wall if I let you bleed to death. Are you hurt?"

"I think I may have busted my knee." Murtagh let Eragon heal his knee and the stinging lacerations striped all down his shoulder. When he was finished, Murtagh's shoulder was smooth and unmarked except for a few jagged black stains where the cuts had been. Murtagh would have done it himself, but his energy was short and there was no heat or light to manipulate. "Where is Nasuada?"

"Taking care of your monster."

"It's not dead!"

"No," said Nasuada, suddenly emerging out of the shadows. "Your blade went right through its skull." She sat next to him, pressed a hand against his cheek, frowned, and began patting his cloths. "Come, let's get you out of those cloths," she said quickly. "You're soaking wet!"

Murtagh hastily pulled away as she began untying his cloak string. "It's alright," he told Nasuada, embarrassed. "I'm not cold."

"Don't be silly, Murtagh."

_Just let them help you,_ Thorn chided. _You couldn't do it half frozen anyways. _

_But I'm not cold. _

_Well, of course not, smarty pants. That was what you wanted when you cast the spell: To not be cold. Only instead of warming yourself, you made it so you could not feel the cold itself.  
_

_I messed up the spell!_ He shuddered the thought of all the things that might have gone wrong instead. And Galbatorix! Had this happened when Galbatorix was his master…he pushed those thoughts away.

_It could have been worse, _Thorn agreed._ You could have blown yourself up casting too strong of a spell._

_I should fix this. _

_No! _Thorn cried. _Wait until your brain isn't so jumbled before you start using magic._

_But how will I sever the barriers when we leave? I can't leave them up forever. _

_Eragon has already taken care of it. Besides, it's not healthy to warm yourself too fast, especially with magic. _

"Now," Nasuada said, fitting a warm cloak around his neck. "We have determined that your monster's head is too big to carry back to Surda. So, we will have to improvise."

"Improvise?"

"We figure that if we bring the Varden back a set of those nasty claws, it should paint a fairly ornate picture."

Murtagh nodded, rubbing his temples sorely. His head pounded relentlessly.

"And," Eragon added, "It will save us time and energy. So, are you ready yet? Roran and Saphira are waiting outside that door. We should try to get out of here as soon as possible."

"Almost finished," Nasauda said. Taking up Murtagh's belt and scabbard, she fitted them around his waist. He could faintly see the outline of a playful smirk. "Can't have you walking around with your pants at your knees, can we?"

"But would you be pleased?"

Nasuada blinked with surprise. Sudden embarrassment flooded her fair features. Eragon turned away and busted out laughing. Even Thorn was slightly surprised.

"What…did you say?"

"I said, 'Would you be pleased?'"

"Maybe if she could see in the dark," Eragon laughed.

Nasuada glared at him, and Murtagh was sure that her face had gone red all over. "We should be going."

"Nasuada!"

"What?"

"Don't you think Murtagh deserves an answer? Since you've obviously questioned his manhood?"

Nasuada watched him for a moment. Then tossing her back, she turned on her heal saying, "If you must know, _Arrogant, _I happen to think that you are forgetting who is liege lord and who is vassal."

Eragon bowed his head, though the smile still remained. "I apologize, My Lady. I could not help my teasing."

Murtagh stood there and watched her go, feeling empty and humiliated. His skull throbbed even more vigorously, and every inch of him ached. _I wasn't being serious, _he scowled silently.

Thorn touched his arm gently. _Don't worry about it, _he said._ You're exhausted and cold. Come ride with me. _

With a weary sigh Murtagh clambered into the saddle. _I think if my head didn't feel as someone a stick of Orrin's dynamite off the side of my skull, then I would have killed him. _

_For a moment, I assumed Nasuada would do the job for you. _

_For a moment, I hoped she would. _He let the conversation die and slowly fell into a half sleep, lulled by Thorn's slow, rhythm. He was woken when Nasuada climbed into the saddle. "You look cold," she whispered in his ears, wrapping herself in his cloak.

"How long was I asleep?"

"Only a few minuets." She reached back and took his hand. "Oh, you are cold. You're hands are like ice!"

Folding his arms around her waist, Murtagh drew her in closer— so close that he could

smell the scent of roses clinging to her ambiance. It filled him with sudden warmth, and a sense of soporific tranquility. "You smell good," he said quietly, half dazed. His thoughts were sticky, like half hardened tar. Then the warmth faded and his vision blurred slightly, meddling light and darkness into one gray, muddle fusion, and made his stomach knot up as if someone were wringing the juices out of his insides.

_Murtagh, of all things to say—_

Nasuada looked at him with worry. "Are you feeling all right?"

"No." A bolt of sharp pain exploded through his skull, down his neck, and through his shoulder. All his muscles went rigid, frozen at the joint. His arms trembled. Something was wrong. Thorn stopped moving and said something, but his words sounded drown out, like a shout uttered underwater.

Then all at once, it ended. Nasuada shook him by the shoulders. "Stop," he managed quietly.

"Are you ill?" she asked. She still held his shoulders firmly.

_Yes, _Thorn said sharply _He is. And—_

The sound of iron clad-boots and men shouting suddenly rang down the corridor. The faint flicker of yellow shimmered at the end of the tunnel.

Eragon cursed, mounted Saphira, and drew his sword. "Blow out your lanterns," he told them.

They blew out the lanterns and waited in the dark. The soldiers neared without knowing Thorn and Saphira awaited them in the dark. They were several feet away when both dragons leapt forward, spewing long torrents of orange fury. The men shrieked as their armor heated to a passionate crimson, baking them alive. Plowing threw the fallen soldiers, Thorn and Saphira scurried down the corridors until a white light appeared at the end. Its shimmer grew until at last they reached the end, and, with growing acceleration, leapt off the ground and took the air.

They had escaped.

* * *

**A/N: **Not too happy with this chapter, but oh well. What's new? Anyways, this has nothing to do with Murtagh's scar. Just thought I'd make that very clear.

Keep reviewing!


	16. Chapter 15

**A/N: **Okay, Murtagh's 'ailment' _could_ have something to do with Galbatorix, but it could also be something else…or maybe a combination of both? It does serve a purpose, though, and all will be revealed later. For now, let's just deal with that pesky elfin 'relic.'

Thanks reviewers!

**Fifteen**

**The Truth of Vrîend'dräco**

It was late in the night when Murtagh woke. His head hurt a little, but other than that and the lack of his usual energy, he was feeling much better. He sat up and surveyed the cave. Everyone but Eragon was asleep. He shuddered, feeling the cool air against his brow.

"You feel that? The cold?" Eragon asked, taking his eyes off the fire at last.

"Yes," Murtagh said.

Eragon reached for the pot boiling over the dying embers. "Good. That means it worked."

"What worked?" Then it dawned on him. He scowled at himself, slumping against Thorn's ribcage. "You fixed the spell."

Eragon shrugged and handed him a bowl of bubbling broth. The smell made Murtagh's stomach shudder uneasily; he took it reluctantly. The bowl shook weakly in his hands. "It's fine. I need all the practice I can get," Eragon said quietly.

"Why's that?"

Eragon stared at the dirt with a sullen expression. "Do you remember that baby I blessed?"

"Yes."

"I…I got the wording wrong. And instead of shielding her from danger, I made her _the_ shield."

Murtagh tapped his finger on the bowl's wooden rim, choosing his words carefully. A part of him wanted to thump his brother over the head for being such an idiot (since he could relate to being unwilling bound), but then there was the other part that said he was in no real position to ridicule Eragon either. So, he improvised. "Well, you shouldn't feel _too _guilty. You're too much of a golden boy to have done it on purpose."

"It doesn't matter if I did it on purpose," said Eragon. "I _did _it."

"Still, you could have done a lot worse. Just fix the problem and get it over with. Learn from your mistakes and move on." He set the bowl aside; his appetite was gone for good. "Do you want me to take over the watch?"

Eragon half laughed. "No," he said. "You were out cold when we finally landed, and that was only hours ago. Were we in Surda, I think Nasuada would have restrained you to the sick ward. No, I think you're better off sleeping the rest of the night."

Murtagh shrugged. "Suite yourself," he said and lay back down. Thorn curled up around him.

_Feel better? _

Murtagh rubbed his eyes sorely. _Yes._

_But not completely? _

Murtagh said nothing, for Thorn already knew the answer.

_  
Nasuada and I were very worried about you._ He poked Murtagh gently in the belly with a scaly nose. _The water in that sinkhole tasted funny, and you swallowed quite a bit of it. I think that is why you're feeling ill. _

_  
There's nothing I can do about now. _

_You can always see a healer when we return to Surda._

Murtagh grunted dubiously._ And have them bleed me to death? Ha! Those leaches would suck me dry in half a heartbeat, trying to get rid of my 'poisoned' blood. _

Thorn snort dubiously. _Only a fool would try that. But hopefully you will be well against soon._

_Hopefully,_ Murtagh agree, feeling each of his tendons stiffen. His sight became distorted and fuzzy again. The images of his surroundings twisted and ground against one another. With pools of misty colors bleeding together into a single perverse painting.

And so it went over the course of the next few days. At night, he dreamed of the Galbatorix's cruelty and cackling jester in his jingling motley and ass ears, and of horrible things— half rotten things with parts of the bone exposed, and writhing worms hanging out of hollowed eye sockets. On more than occasion, Thorn had to drag his conscience out of the nightmare and away from the nightmare. His physical ailments remained in tact as well, refusing to dissipate. He could keep nothing down, his energy was on the minimal, and it seemed that everything hurt all the time. And the most frustrating part was that there was nothing anyone could do about it. There was nothing to heal, inside or out.

On the morning of the third day, however, when Thorn was out hunting, it was Nasuada who woke him up with a shrill, terrified scream. Murtagh bolted upright to find her frantically struggling out of her dress, striping herself down to finely laced underclothes. She threw it onto the ground with a disgusted shudder and stepped back; as if afraid the dress might reach up and snatch her up with toothy jaws.

"What are you doing?" Murtagh cried, struggling to his feet.

Nasuada pointed to the heap of soft brown cloth. The dark hue in her skin had paled. "It moved!"

"The dress?"

"No! Vrîend'dräco, it moved!"

He glanced at the dress, which had begun to squirm vigorously. When he said nothing, she cried, "Well, do something! I'm in stranded in my underwear!"

Murtagh groaned and searched the campsite. Where was Eragon he needed him? There was a loud squeak, followed by a crack. He frowned. _It can't be. _Murtagh knelt down and dug out the elfin relic. It trembled vigorously there on the ground. It was very obvious to him what it was, but he doubted Nasuada did. He knew Nasuada should be the open it.

Nasuada leaned took a step closer. "What do we do?"

"I don't know," he said. "It's your relic."

"Yes, but you know more about these things than I do."

"I think you should open it."

Nasuada stared at Vrîend'dräco uneasily. "Arya said not to, unless it was necessary."

"It's necessary."

She looked at him, and then back at the fidgeting bundle of ribbons and silk. "What if it bites?"

For a minuet, Murtagh wondered if she knew what is was. "You can fight Urgals and Ra'zac, but you can't be bothered with a wiggling package?"

"I don't delve into potential danger without knowing _what _the danger is, Murtagh." She straightened up, crossing her arms over lace swathed breasts. "And if you're such a high and mighty warrior, then why don't _you_ open it up."

"Because it's not _my _responsibility, your Ladyship"

"A likely excuse," Nasuada said with a sudden distressed sigh. She turned her back to him and walked to the edge of the camp. "Just what I'd expect from a coward."

Murtagh was on his feet instantly, furious. "You think I'm a coward!"

"Unless there is a good reason why _you_ shouldn't open it, then yes."

Murtagh glared at her. _Your beloved plays with you, Murtagh,_ said Thorn from far away. _She's suspicious and wants you to tell her the truth of Arya's lie. _

_I know, _Murtagh answered. _But I can play too._

_Are you going to tell her?_

_No. She can find out for herself. _He held up his hands, his fingers shaking slightly. "I can't," he told her with an innocent voice. "My hands hurt, and my fingers just won't do what I tell them."

"Don't fool with me, Murtagh," Nasuada said sharply.

"It's the truth!"

But Nasuada was clever than that. "Yes, the sky is purple and the grass is blue."

"Well, you can't just stand around in your underwear all day."

"I will if I must." Her eyes ran over him narrowly. "And you don't have to stare!"

"You're the one who won't put your cloths back on!"

"That's funny coming from you, Mr. 'Will You Be Pleased?'"

"I wasn't myself that day."

"Then tell me the truth. _What is it?_"

He glanced at Vrîend'dräco. The silk began to burn. Tiny, scaly green claws poked through the burning cloth, clawing at the smoldering ribbons and tearing it open. "I think it's self explanatory," he said, stepping back as a jade hatchling crawled out of the silk-wrapped egg.

"This is terrible," Nasuada whispered, shivering. Then she exploded. "She lied to me!"

"This is good thing," Murtagh said. Where was Eragon? And Roran? He hadn't left Katrina's side since they left Helgrind. "You should be proud."

"Proud? Proud of what? That the Empire _still _awaits my invasion? That I seem to lack the ability of keeping my allies— those stupid rock-brained dwarves—at my side because they are terrified of dragons? Oh yes, lucky me, the elves promise to help liberate Alagaësia of our imperial plague, and yet instead of an army, those tree-hugging imps decide that literally scaring the clothing off my back is much more beneficial!"

"It's not as bad as you think."

"You don't understand. I will now have to double my efforts to prove that I am fit, not only as Varden chief, but now I must prove that I am worthy to call _that—_"she thrust a slender finger at the hatchling, "—mine."

Careful not to touch the hatchling, he picked up the dress. "He chose well, Nasuada. You are hard as iron, and your heart is very kind. There is no one in Alagaësia who deserves to bear leadership over the Varden. No one is brainless enough to say that you do not deserve to call _him _your dragon," he said gently, kneeling beside her. "Now, will you please put your dress back on?"

The smoldering glaze in her eyes softened to a rapt sparkle. "Do I not please you?"

"Well—"

She stopped him with a kiss. It made his skin quiver with burning delight.

"How about now?"

Even though Murtagh wanted to let this continue, he was increasingly ware of the disaster that might occur if the Varden became aware of his growing romantic interests. _And in her underwear! _He managed to summon a weak smile. "Pleasing, indeed. But as gratifying as you are, whether in dress or lace, I am not sure if this is the appropriate time."

"Of course not," Nasuada said with some disappointment. She backed away from him slightly, a reclusive expression contorting her smooth features. "You speak honestly. I was a fool to think otherwise. Ad there may never be time for it, less the Varden succeeds. I will not forget again." Her words were soft but cold, and they lashed against his heart like a barbed whip.

"That is not what I meant," he said quickly.

Nasuada shrugged. "Still, it is the truth. I've no time to waste for romantics. I have an invasion to execute, an army to lead, allies to rally, nor can I allow even the most negligible bit of …soil upon my reputation."

Murtagh swallowed and closed eyes, suppressing a storm of frustration and heartache. _Why did I open my big mouth? _There was a long silence, in which Murtagh thought the stillness might crush his eardrums. "Very well," he said at last. "I am going to find Eragon. You can discuss your duties as a Rider with someone less _muddy_."

He turned towards the forest.

"Wait—"

"Dirt has no place upon a white cloth," Murtagh said with a sudden, pointed harshness. He somehow found a terrible satisfaction at the wounded expression on her face.

**A/N:** If you want to know the truth, I **don't** think Nasuada will be Rider #3. Mr. P and his crew of evil moviemakers have a tendency to give my favorite characters the shaft. I also think the reason why he hasn't released the title of his book yet is because it will totally blow the big secret on Rider/Dragon #3.

I will also bet **big** money that Mr. P named his book after the third rider (look at _Eldest _and _Eragon, _they're both named after the new riders, and their dragons both made cover art), which again, is probably why he won't tell us the name of Book 3.

Anyways, I **will** explain why the egg hatched without Nasuada touching soon.

Today is the Vernal Equinox, so happy Oestara and Blessed Be!

And keep reviewing!


	17. Chapter 16

**Sixteen**

**Apology**

_You are a very talented young lady, _Thorn told her bitterly, circling high above the camp after Murtagh had storm off. _Now he will spend the rest of the day angry, and tomorrow he will slip into a dark depression. _

_I wasn't trying to be mean,_ Nasuada protested. She instantly regretted loosing her temper. She glanced at the hatchling, which was busy sniffing at the cold pot of stew. His scales gleamed in the firelight, reflecting specks of lime on the ground. _I hate surprises,_ she thought dismally.

_They make you very grouchy,_ Thorn said.

Nasuada scowled. _I get the point, Thorn. _

_Then you could at least apologize and feed your dragon. _

Nasuada sighed and pulled the hatchling out of the pot. As soon she touched its scales, an impenetrable force exploded through her barriers, opening her mind to another presence. Hot ice poured through her veins. Nasuada tried to move, but her arms and legs were heavy as lead. It was few long moments before she could move again. Her hand burned slightly, and there was a silvery white patch in the middle of her palm.

_Now what? _A shrill wave of hunger came over her. Nasuada shook her head and ladled a bowl of cold stew into the bowl for the hatchling. The hatchling was like a minuture version of Thorn and Saphira, except that he was green, and was broader in the shoulders and thicker in the legs than Saphira. He watched her with one lime green eye as he gobbled down the stew, tail flickering back and forth.

After a while Eragon returned, with Roran and Katrina slowly in his wake. At first Eragon didn't notice the hatchling. "Where's Murtagh?"

"In the woods. Pouting probably," Nasuada said stiffly, tracing the silver mark on her palm.

"Is he well enough to be out there by himself?"

Nasuada snorted. "He was well enough to go storming off after you."

Eragon looked alarmed. "What did I do?"

"Nothing. We had an argument and he said he was going to find you."

"What were you arguing about?"

She poked the dragon between the ribs and it gave a small squawk. "He's why."

Eragon ran his eyes over the hatchling. His eyes brightened. "What…where did that—he come from?"

"Arya," Nasuada said bitterly, using the elf's name like a curse. "She lied to me."

"How do you mean?"

Rolling her eyes to sky, Nasuada told him about how Arya had lied to her. When she was finished, Eragon laughed. "Dragon's don't just choose _anyone_," he said. "You should be proud."

"But I never touched the egg in the first place, so why did it hatch?"

Saphira hummed and lowered her head to greet the hatchling. Her sapphire eyes gleamed. _A dragon only hatches when he senses his Rider's presence, _she said. _A bit of silk and ribbons will not stop that. Not when you have been carrying the egg around for more than a week. _

"I will have words with Arya when we return," she s sourly.

"The results were positive, so why does it matters."

Nasuada gave him a stiff look. "It matters because my most trusted advisor flat out manipulated me."

"She was only trying to help the Varden."

"Just because you're obsessed with Arya, doesn't make her perfect."

"Whine, whine, whine," Murtagh said hotly, from Thorn's back as he stepped out of the trees. "Would you like some cheese with that whine? That's all you've done today."

Nasuada glowered. "You just don't get it, do you?"

Sliding off Thorn's back, Murtagh glared daggers. His face was pale and clammy, and there were dark circles under his eyes. Until now, Nasuada had not realized how sick he looked. "Oh, I understand perfectly— that I am a dirty, pouting coward," Murtagh retorted. "Yes, poor you, Nasuada. Arya lied and you believed her. Life is so terrible isn't it?"

_I told you he'd be angry,_ Thorn chided.

"I get the idea," Nasuada said impatiently to them both. "I overreacted and said things that I should not have. I apologize for my outburst." Murtagh seemed less convinced.

"It was very unladylike."

"It was." And she left it at that.

Thorn was right though. For the remainder of that day, Murtagh remained in a foul mood. He kept his distant from her, and conversation was reserved as short and bitter. By the morning of the next day, his temper had died down to a brooding, sour silence. When Nasauda asked him if he was all right after returning to camp, looking more pale and sickly than ever, he gave her a rather dark look and in a hoarse voice insisted that he was fine; adding that she should not waste her try to keep her hands clean, and not waste her time on a coward.

"I think he's getting worse," Eragon said lowly later that day. "He looks like he walked out of crypt."

"I'm not blind," Nasuada said. "He just won't listen to anything I have to say." His health worried her. He was getting worse with every passing day. Yet the more she tried to help, the more he ignored her.

It was another three days before Nasuada had had enough. She caught him when he was asleep and could not walk off on her, to make amends. Grabbing the hatchling and her blankets, she peered under Thorn's wing, where Murtagh was sleeping. Thorn cracked an eye ochre open, and then lifted his wing.

"What do you want?" Murtagh mumbled sleepily when she woke him.

She set the dragon down. "Garth and I were feeling a bit cold," she said, half hoping he would play along.

"Garth?"

"That is what I have chosen to call him," Nasuada explained. "'Garth' is short, simple, and strong. And it sounds like him, doesn't."

Murtagh shrugged and rolled over with a frosty, drained languor. "What you call your dragon is your business, not mine."

"You would let us freeze?"

"Go cuddle with Eragon."

Nasuada laid a hand gently on his shoulder. "I am sorry, for what I said. I overreacted and said things I should not have. You are not a coward." She fingered the worn fringe on his cloak. "And I certainly do not consider you a waste of my time."

Murtagh glanced at her. Then at last he gave in and with a weary sigh he scooted over.

Relief washed over her as she settled down beside him. "I was worried you'd still upset with me."

"I don't have the energy to house any anger with you," he said, shifting uncomfortably. "And I like you too much." Garth crawled in between them with a dubious snort.

"I like you too," she said, but he had fallen asleep.

_Let him sleep, Thorn chided. Then added, Before Garth gets too jealous. She glanced at Garth, who was nibbling gently at her fingernail. He gave another small snort and scoot closer to her. It was funny, the more she tried to ignore her dragon, the more attatched she grew to Garth. _

_Jealous? _

_You spend an awful lot of time thinking about Murtagh. _

_I do not!_

Garth snorted again and she suddenly came to realize that there was little she could hide from him.

* * *

**A/N: **Don't ask me, 'Why Garth?' I don't know what his name is supposed to be. I am...creatively disabled when it comes to making up names for charecters that already have names that I don't know. I personally don't like it when people give dragons really long, bizzare names that I can't even pronounce. Garth was short, simple...and just happened to be the name of uncle who draws really cool dragons. I'll try to come up with something cool that has to do with the name, but right now, I'm tired. 

Read and Review!


	18. Chapter 17

**A/N:** Readers! If you have not already, then you must visit pronto! Hurry! You can decorate and customize your own personal Saphira the 'volksdragon' with polka dots, bunny ears, stereos, baby seats…I almost died laughing.

Thanks again for the reviews! I'm glad you guys liked Garth.

**Seventeen**

**A 'Talk' with Arya**

The fever came overnight without warning in a sweltering upsurge. Nasuada was aroused when Garth gave a small, irritable growl. Alarmed, she bolted upright. Then she noticed Murtagh squirming uncomfortably under the blankets, half asleep. Feeling the impression of the stifling heat slowly dissipate off her front side, Nasuada frowned and pressed the back of her palm against his cheek. His skin was burned to the touch. She pressed her other hand on his cheek, to make sure she wasn't imagining the temperature. _He was fine a few hours ago!_

Nasuada shook him awake, calling his name until he finally gave a limp groan of acknowledgement. "Are you feeling all right?" _Dumb question, _she told herself, _Of course he's not all right. He hasn't been all right since we left Helgrind!_ "You're burning up."

Murtagh mumbled something so softly she could not hear not hear it.

"What?"

He repeated the words again, but his words were all jumbled up and made no sense.

_What's he saying? _she asked Thorn.

_He is saying, 'Help I cannot speak English!' _Thorn said with bitter sarcastically. _I don't know what he is trying to say. His thoughts are confused, and they run into one another. It's like trying to translate a baby's careless babbling. It worries me. _

Nasuada quickly called to Eragon. "I don't get it," he said a few minuets later. "What's wrong with him? He just keeps getting worse."

_If I knew exactly, _said Thorn, _then I would have told you, and you would have healed him already. _

Eragon sighed. "I've tried to heal him. No matter what I do, nothing works," he said. "We're only a day and a half from Aberon, if we fly fast. Angela or one of your healers will probably know more about this anyways."

"Gertrude might also be able to help,"

Garth crawled into her arms. "It seems like that is our only option."

* * *

They took only a very brief time the next day to stop for a rest before they reached the capital. Unfortunately, by the time they began to approach Aberon, Murtagh had fallen into a deep sleep that they could not rouse him from. When Thorn and Saphira landed, Jörmundur and a group of Varden soldiers greeted them. "Welcome home, Lady Nasuada," Jörmundur greeted her boisterously. "I trust your trip went well?"

"Well, enough," Nasuada grunted as Garth wriggled impatiently in her arms. She slid off Thorn's saddle. A wave of hunger washed over her. _I just fed you! _

Jörmundur's eyes opened wide as saucers at the sight of Garth. The soldiers began to whisper. "Is that…tell me that isn't…" Jörmundur stammered.

"He is," Nasuada said, "And quite frankly he's quite the bottomless pit." On average, Garth ate more in one setting than all four of them put together. His belly was always bulging, and he seemed to be growing a little bigger and wider everyday. "But we will discuss Garth later," she said. "Right now, we need a healer."

A frown line appeared in the middle of Jörmundur's brow. "Is someone injured?"

"Murtagh is sick," Nasuada explained. She motioned to the group of soldiers standing next to Jörmundur. "Well? What are you waiting for? Don't just stand there, get Murtagh on a litter and take him to the healer's ward. He is unconscious. He will not bite."

The soldiers looked at Nasuada and then at Thorn and his sagging Rider. Only one of them nodded and said, "Yes ma'am," with little hesitation. He made towards Murtagh, but then Thorn lashed out warningly, snapping his jaws together with a smoking snarl.

_I will escort Murtagh to the ward, _he said firmly and no one but Nasuada dared oppose.

_They are only trying to help, _she scolded. _He can't stay in that saddle forever. _

_I will not put Murtagh into another's custody when he is unconscious and unable to protect himself. _He flicked his tail in the air. _Therefore I will escort him straight to his bed. _

_You can't fit through that door. _

There is an even big door at the back of the building. If they want to heal Murtagh then they will have to let me in.

Nasuada glared at the dragon irritably, but knew there was no point in arguing further. "Very well," she said to the soldiers with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Accompany them to the healers. You should also remind the them that Murtagh's life is in their hands. Should they fail, not only deal will they have _me _to deal with, but also they will also have to deal with Murtagh's ferocious overgrown lizard."

_With wings, _Thorn cried. _I am a ferocious overgrown lizard _with wings!

* * *

"The Varden faired well while you were gone," Jörmundur told her on the way her to her office. "We had a minor fire in the lace warehouse. Luckily Arya and her magicians were able to douse the flames before too much damage could be done."

"Has this effected our production—" Nasuada looked at him suspiciously. "What do you mean _her _magicians?"

Jörmundur scratched his beard. "Well, they aren't really _Arya's_ magicians. The Queen sent them all the way from Ellesméra to help Eragon. There are twelve of them here. They arrived the day after you and Rider Murtagh left."

Nasuada shoulder Garth, furious. "Well then I must speak with Arya immediately," she scowled. "Why didn't she tell me Islanzadí was sending us a dozen magicians? She's supposed to be an ambassador!"

Before Jörmundur could answer she marched off to Arya's study and threw open the door. Arya was seated at a wide circular table with four other elves. They jumped slightly at the interruption. Nasauda ignored them and set Garth on the table before Arya. "You lied," she said in such a low, cold tone that she almost frighten herself with the venomous tone.

A smile appeared on Arya's lips; Nasuada wanted to slap her. "I did," said Arya. "And it was so terribly easy."

Nasuada slammed her fist on the table. Arya's smile melted off her face. The wine glasses trembled. The other elves looked uneasily at one another." You _lied_ to me!" she cried, almost shouting. "I told you to take Garth's egg back to Ellesméra! What if I something had happened? What if it had been lost? Or stolen?"

"You did not tell her?" one of the elves asked.

"Of course I did not tell her," Arya said. "She wouldn't touch the egg anyways."

"So you figured lying to me was a far better solution?"

"Yes," Arya said even more coldly. "And it was not entirely _my_ idea. My mother and our wisest elders suggested that it would be better if we started with you. Since it would be a waste of time to pass the egg around to every single elf, only to have it hatch to you later on. She also said to give you her blessing. Your thoughtfulness impressed her to end and she is proud to have the Varden as an ally."

Nasuada gave her a look of daggers. "What does Vrîend'dräco mean?"

"It means 'dragon friend.'"

"In what language?"

Arya hesitated. "In Glic."

"Glic?"

"The tongue spoken by the Hadarac humans."

"So you _do_ know something of them!"

Arya stood up. "Will you stop shouting? Vrîend'dräco is what they used to call dragons. I did not tell you because I wanted Vrîend'dräco to be a surprise."

"Ha! 'Surprise' is an understatement compared to the distress placed upon me. Garth scared me out of my dress— literally! And in front of _Murtagh!_"

The other elves stifled their musical laughter. Nasuada felt her cheeks burn with a rush of hot redness. Mortified, she forced herself to take a deep breath and say, "I am going to go take a long, hot bath. And when I am done, you can tell me all about these nomads."

* * *

A/N: Yes, I know, Golden Boy Eragon could have probably healed Murtagh at the beginning of the chapter. However, this ailment serves to demonstrate something very, very important that is bound to make some uneasy (it is not just some random angst). So you'll have to read the next chapter. I also decided that it has nothing to do with Galbatorix (it was a very long and hard decision, but I'm sure you'll see why).

Don't forget to review! Thanks again!


	19. Chapter 18

**A/N: **It seems that when I uploaded chapter seventeen everything was underlined…that wasn't me that was uploading problem. I fixed it. Thanks for pointing it out to me!

**Eighteen**

**True Sovereignty**

After listening to the pleas of several politicians for a raise in wages and a thorough report from Triana on lace production, dusk had already set in over the powdered blue-gold horizon. Faracia brought her an extra large meal, saying that in the future she should try to avoid camping food— it made her bony and thin. Nasuada smiled politely, appreciating the concern. She was the least bit insulted since two weeks of stale bread and lamely flavored vegetable broth _had _left her insides feeling empty and lonely.

Nasuada split her meal with Garth; she had forgotten how actual _food _had tasted. When she was finished, she went patted Garth on the head, went to the windows, and threw the curtains over the evening glare. "You're bath is ready, ma'am," Faracia said. "I used your favorite soaps."

Nasuada smiled. "Thank you Faracia." She stepped behind the wooden screen that could be drawn across the room to separate her privet quarters from her office.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Nasuada lifted the dress over her head. "Would you go to the infirmary and see how Murtagh is doing? I forgot have them tell the healers to report to me as soon as they came up with a diagnosis. You can also remind them what will happen should they fail."

Faracia nodded and curtsied. "Will that be all?"

"Yes, thank you." She finished undressing and slipped into the steaming water. The soreness almost instantaneously melted from her aching muscles, coaxed by the rose oiled water and the soothing heat. She could not understand how some people could stand being dirty all the time; Nasuada hated it. Unless circumstances, such as a clash encounter mêlée or a horribly long but important trip, permitted otherwise she always tried to stay polished and grime-free.

Someone knocked at the door. Nasuada groaned. "Yes?" she could not help the slight peppery edge in her voice.

On the other side of the screen, she heard the door slide open and someone shuffled in. "Nasuada!" It was King Orrin. "You did not even bother to say hello to me. I am insulted."

"And I am in my birthday suite, enjoying my first _real _soak in an actual tub." She leaned back into the tub's smooth, porcelain walls with a smug grin. She could just imagine King's Orrin's face all screwed up in a pained wince, as if he had a swallowed an immature lemon. "I did not want to offend you with all the dirt and grime plastered on face. But if you need me then I suppose it will have to wait." She moved around a bit to make it sound as if she were getting out. "Oh dear, I think my maid may have forgotten the towels…"

"That's all right," Orrin said quickly, sounding quite clumsy. "I was only wondering if you happened to bring that trophy."

_I love being a woman,_ Nasuada thought, satisfied. "The monster's head was too big to cart all the way back home. So we decided a set of claws would do just as well."

"Oh. Would you mind if I examined it?"

"I would rather let Murtagh show it to you when he is feeling better. He went through so much to get it. He will want to be the one to present it."

Orrin paused. Then he said, "I have a speculation on why he may be sick. However, I cannot be sure until I have examined this trophy."

Nasuada sat forward. "A theory? Like what?" Now she regretted pretending to have no towel to dry off with.

"My hypothesis is useless until I can those tests."

"Have you heard from the healers?"

"They suspect a very sever case of lead poisoning."

"Lead poisoning!" she cried. "How on earth did he come down with lead poisoning? He was perfectly fine before he fought that monster. How could he have come down with it so quickly?"

"That ties into my premise, which could be supported if I can get my hands on that trophy."

Nasuada sat back into the basin. "Very well," she said. "Eragon has it with his things. All I ask is that you do not show it to anyone. Let Murtagh have his glory. He has earned it."

She could hear Orrin smiling from his voice. "Of course. I will have the results to you as soon as I am done."

---

When Nasuada was finished enjoying her soak, she went slipped into her linen gown and sent a messenger for Arya. "Were you anyone under my command," Nasuada began coldly. "You would have been charged with insubordination. However, being who you are, the only thing I can do is to not trust as fluently."

Arya's eyes flashed. "It was for your own good," she said. "And the good of the Varden. You cannot possibly be fool enough to recognize that."

Nasuada smiled. "I know and I am very grateful. However, you did lie to me and thus I cannot forgive you so easily. Now, I believe you know more of these tribes than you let on."

"Actually," Arya said, "There isn't much more to add to my earlier testaments. The people who live in the desert were apart of the old humans who first came to Alagaësia. The group split in two shortly after arriving on our coast, half of them stayed in the greener parts of Alagaësia and the other half went into the desert. When Galbatorix took control of the capital, he burned a great deal of our most important records. I have been running back and forth between the Varden and my home for the past seven decades so I never had enough time to study all of our records. However, when I went home this last time I reread what records do have, and found one significant word."

"And that would be?"

"Halali," Arya said. "It is a word used to specify that the hunt is over and the quarry has been brought to a bay. The old humans were afraid to speak of where they came from and referred to it as Scarath."

"What does this have to do with Halali?"

"It was often hinted that the old humans were chased here from across the sea by the Ra'zac or creatures similar to the Ra'zac. Halali was used as an event that was bound to come in the future, which indicates that they escaped and the hunt still continues."

Nasuada leaned back into her chair. Garth was curled up on her lap. "It could also mean that Galbatorix's new allies are these hunters. Was it mentioned what sort of race these hunters were?"

"It was not."

"Then we must investigate," Nasuada concluded. "I will send my agents into the Hadarac to find these nomads."

"They use camouflage," Arya pointed out. "They use it very well. So you may want to send a magician to find them. He or she will have to rely on sensing them with their minds, not the eye. I am assuming that is how the slavers find them."

"I will send Triana then," Nasuada said. "She will have to find a way to communicate with them and find out more about Halali and Scarath."

"It may be easier to find a slave and try to communicate with them than scouring the entire desert."

"I'll sleep on it."

---

In the middle of the night, King Orrin decided that he should also interrupt Nasauda's first night in an actual bed since departing Aberon two weeks ago. "I have come to a conclusion on my hypothosis," he said on the other side of the screen.

She sat up with a silent groan. "In the middle of the night?"

"It's very interesting. If you would like to hear, I will tell it to you now."

Nasuada sighed and wrapped herself in the white bathrobe. Garth poked his head out from under the covers to see what was going on. She picked him up, lit one of the oil lanterns, and slumped into her office chair. "Tell me your conclusion then," she said. "How did Murtagh come down with lead poisoning?"

Faracia had told her before Nasuada before she went to bed that the healers were treating Murtagh for the severe case of lead poisoning they had ever seen. He had only come out of the sleep once since admission. The healers were worried. Nasuada was terrified.

King Orrin pulled set the box on the table. It was almost four feet long. He reached in and pulled out the half frozen set of four giant claws curving out of a thick, hairy paw. "I had one of the magicians freeze it so that the smell would not be so bad."

"I see."

"I was told that Murtagh was dragged into the water in which Gonoszság Skämd dwelled. After running a few tests, I found an incredible amount of lead on the fur. Therefore the lead must have come from the water."

"So Murtagh must have swallowed some of the water and aquired lead poisoning. At least I will not have worry about some crazy politician poisoning him."

"Perhaps," Orrin said, "but it gets more even more interesting. You see, the amount of lead in that water is preposterous."

Nasuada watched him uneasily. A cold knot of fear twisted her entrails. "How much water do you think he swallowed?"

"According to the toxin levels from the blood samples I took, it was enough to kill him several times over. Murtagh should not even be alive now. So then we should not worry about how he came to be poisoned, but how he is still alive."

"What do the healers think?"

Orrin shrugged. "The healers think that it is because he was Galbatorix's pupil. But Murtagh, if I remember correctly, specifically ordered himself to obey only his will. Nobody wants to die—"

"Least of all Murtagh," Nasuada added.

"—So I am assuming that the only reason he _is _alive is because he must obey his will."

"But how is that possible?" Nasuada asked. "If he swallowed enough water to kill him several times, then how is he still alive?"

"In theory, he will not die unless he wants to because he must obey his will. Nobody ever wants to die so therefore he will not. The only thing I can think of is magic. Also, consider that he survived drowning and nearly freezing to death."

Nasuada considered this for a moment. If Orrin was correct, then this was sure to stir up trouble. People would be even more wary of Murtagh if he could not die. "We shouldn't tell anyone about this," she said. "Arya maybe, for she knows more of the ancient language than either of us. Everyone else, even the magicians, from Queen Islanzadi should not know. We cannot have anyone trying to test your theory any further."

"Of course."

"In the mean time, has anyone spoken to Angela?"

"I did around midnight. She was busy brewing up a concoction that is supposed to flush the poison from his system."

Nasuada sighed. "Somehow, I don't think I will sleep tonight. Even with Angela's miracle tonics."

**A/N: **Okay, so Murtagh obeying his will was really, really important and I had to do something with it. I'll touch up more on it later. As for the nomads, I've been putting it off because I'm not sure how I want to do it. So until I decide, it may be later in the fic.

Thanks for the reviews! You guys made my day.


	20. Chapter 19

**A/n:** 202 reviews? Gasp Wow! I love you guys…in a nice friendly author-reviewer way. Thanks so much!

Well, I wasn't expecting this chapter. It's short (2pgs!). But I think that Galbatorix would be fuming mad at Murtagh for breaking his oaths and stealing his egg. So, this short chapter is to deal with that. I'll have a few explanations at the end of the chapter in the author's note, and later in the next few chapters.

Galbatorix was hard to do, since I've never seen him before (Garth is so much easier to work with!). I can't think of a good true name for Murtagh, so I'm not going to mention what it is (I bet Mr. P knows what it is!)

Thanks for the reviews!

* * *

**Nineteen **

**Oathbreaker **

Murtagh woke to complete darkness. He had to pry his eyelids open. His body ached and felt as though it had been glued to the mattress. A dark figure stood at the edge of the bed. A blurry shadow molded to a vague human-shape. Normally he would have said something to it out loud, _done _something to find out who was standing over him; he would have reacted in some alarmed way. But he was too tired to do anything except ask Thorn who it was.

Thorn said nothing.

The figure moved to the head of the bed with a slow, ghostly motion. It bent down and said in ear with a vicious whisper, "You have failed me, Murtagh."

The blood froze in Murtagh's veins.

A dark hand pressed against his face. Except that it wasn't a real hand. It was a hard, formless pocket of cold air. "You didn't think that you escape so easily, did you?"

_Thorn! _

Silence.

The figure— Galbatorix in some shadowy-projectile form— laughed. It was a dry, evil cackle. "He cant' hear you. Not while I am shielding your thoughts and my presence."

Hot pain shot down his arm, into his bones. Invisible irons pressed against his hands, blistering the old scars. He could not speak or move. It was like the dream in Helgrind, except that this was real. That was more terrifying that anything. "You didn't think you could get away from me, did you Oathbreaker? I suppose I was lucky that you became ill." If Galbatorix's shadow figure had any facial features, Murtagh imagined he would have been smiling cruelly. "You must obey your desire to keep living. Your body has been so busy trying to stay alive that it has no strength to keep up those barriers. I cannot curse you, but I can do other things."

_Thorn! _

Nothing.

Galbatorix began flipping through Murtagh's memories, tearing them out of the most privet part of his mind. He took everything, especially anything that had to do with Nasuada, causing Murtagh pain whenever he could. When he came to the hatching of Garth, Galbatorix growled. "It took me years to find your true names." Another electric hot pain shot down his spine.

Thorn looked up. Murtagh could see his ochre eyes gleaming in the dark. He let out a low snarl and nosed Murtagh's limp. "Look at me." He reluctantly looked away from Thorn. "It seems that no matter how much I torment you physically, you always go crawling back to my enemies." Galbatorix paused and Murtagh was sure he was smiling wickedly. He tried everything to push Galbatorix away, but the spells kept slipping away as if greased with oil.

"I can find Nasuada's true name if you like," Galbatorix went. "It may take me awhile, but I will make it so that she cannot break her oaths. As long as she does not know the name, she will _stay_ mine. I will not make the same mistake again. I can get Eragon's name too. And then what will you do? So _don't _think that you will go without punishment."

Suddenly Thorn leapt up and slammed into Galbatorix's mental barriers. Galbatorix let out a roar of anguish, his shadow figure denigrating. He was gone. Then Thorn reached out and pulled Murtagh's mind away from any outside clutches, sheltering him with brawny barriers.

And it was done.

* * *

**A/n:** We know that Galbatorix is evil beyond reason so we can assume that he'd have a way to project his image/form all the way across Alagaësia (sort of like astral projection). Since Murtagh is sick and the need to survive is more important than keeping up mental barriers, Galby could easily get into Murtagh's head. He can't curse Murtagh because Murtagh obeys his will and a curse would be against his will. It would be broken as soon as he got better and his life wasn't in danger.

Don't forget to review!


	21. Chapter 20

**Twenty**

**Confession**

Nasuada was up before dawn. Unable to find sleep, she paid a visit to the infirmary. In the background, hidden from view, she sense the four elves that had promised to watch out for her. Although after Arya's display of honesty, she wasn't too confident.

When she asked how Murtagh was faring, the head healer just shook her head. "We had a disturbance last night."

Nasuada frowned. "And what was amiss?" Garth brushed against her calves.

The healer's weathered face wrinkled into a rumpled scowl. "The dragon. Excuse me ma'am but I _don't_ like having dragons on my ward." Garth hissed. "Pardon me. But milady, honestly, Thorn frightens the other patients. And when my assistants are not wetting themselves, they are tripping over gargantuan claws and limbs!" She pointed to the corner of the ward that was segregated by several curtain sheets. "We are hoping to return him to privet quarters tonight, if he continues improvement."

"He couldn't have healed that fast," Nasuada said. "King Orrin himself said there was enough lead in his blood to kill him several times."

"It is no bluff," the healer said stiffly. "Rider Murtagh should _not _be alive. From what His Majesty explained to me, Murtagh's body is doing everything it can to stay alive, even if it means temporarily adapting to the poison."

Nasuada looked at the big bulge in the sheet curtains. She was itching to talk to him. "If you do move him back to privet quarters, then by no means are you to neglect him."

"Of course not."

"I would like to speak with him," she said. "Is he well enough?"

"He goes in and out of sleep." The healer looked her over suspiciously. "Angela says that you are close. If I may ask, is it true?"

The question caught Nasuada off guard, mostly because of Angela, who had been gone that first week. "Angela?"

"Yes, you know, the witch."

Nasuada's face hardened. "You shouldn't believe everything you hear," Nasuada told her sternly. "Angela is…well, she's Angela. And I don't need rumors floating around about something…like this!" She was so angry she could hardly talk.

The healer cringed. "If you say so, but King Orrin seemed to agree so I thought—"

Nasuada had stormed off, with Garth in her wake, before she lost her temper. She left without saying hello to Murtagh. By chance, on her way back to office, Orrin stopped her.

"I have been meaning to talk to you," he said.

Nasuada tried not to glare. "Do you mind explaining why you 'seemed to agree' with Angela that I am having a love affair with Murtagh?"

Orrin gave her a funny look. "First of all Nasuada, you must be _married _to have an affair, and secondly, you really _must _find a hobby before that temper gets the best of you."

She ignored the advice. "The head healer said that you seemed to agree with Angela—"

"_Seemed_ to," Orrin corrected. "I did not say anything that actually indicated that I concur. She must have assumed that I agreed, which I do, but I did not say anything."

"You _agree?_"

Orrin laughed. "It's engraved in your face, dear, in big, bold letters. Everyone who knows you personally knows it."

"Very funny," Nasuada hissed. "But this is not about my feelings. This is about the _Varden's_ feelings toward the matter."

"Well, I don't see anyone rioting."

"My council…they'd go ballistic on me. You saw how those ugly vultures tried to persuade me to hang him."

"It's nothing you can't handle. If it really bothers you, think what would your father say."

Nasuada snorted. "He'd say something like, 'Nasuada, you stay away from those boys. The only thing they're interested in is getting under you're skirt!'" she said in a deep voice, shaking her finger, imitating her father. Then a sort of sad, empty feeling came over her. She missed her father dearly. "No, I don't think he would have agreed. No matter _who_ it was."

"He's your father," Orrin said. "He's supposed to tell you that. _My_ advice to you is the longer you try to cover it up, the farther rumors will spread, and the more the public will nag you about it."

Nasuada looked at him for a moment. "This is awkward," she declared.

"Love is very awkward."

"Not that, _you._ You preach love and science better than you preach war. Why is that you never take myadvice?"

"I dotake your advice. I only discard about half of it."

Nasuada rolled her eyes. "Well, since we're swapping counsel here, I think _you, _your royal Kingliness, need to get your majestic rear out of that lab and convince those silly nobles to help. _Or_ order them to join you. You're a _king _take advantage of that power."

"We will discuss my Kingly power over the nobles _after _we talk about this wedding," Orrin said narrowly. "And perhaps we can talk about your manners too."

Garth nibbled at her heals and Nasuada scooped him up. "What wedding?"

"Katrina and Roran's. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Roran is a hero for slaying the Twins, and Katrina for surviving the Ra'zac. Are you going to have a feast in honor of their wedding? Because this would be the perfect occasion to brighten broken spirits, and I could use this opportunity to call a conference to my courtiers."

Nasuada gave him a sour look that could skin a mountain. "I'm not paying for a giant feast so that you can lure your fish into your net."

"You're going to exclude non-Varden members?"

"I will pay for the Varden's expenses. If you want your nobles to join me, you may calculate the exact amount of extra food that will needed and provide it. Otherwise, it will be a privet celebration."

"Good," Orrin said. "Now, about your notion of getting my majestic rear out of—"

But Nasuada was already gone.

---

That evening, near bedtime, Nasuada found herself in a debate with Arya about training.

"You need proper training," she told Nasuada. "You and Garth won't last long in battle without it."

"I'm plenty trained," Nasuada said smoothly, coldly, not meeting Arya's eyes (she was still very angry with her). "And I've survived plenty battles, thank you very much."

"And what of magic? You are as vulnerable as a baby to even the weakest magicians."

"Again," Nasuada said louder, "I have survived plenty of battles without magic. I am not going to waste my time flying around that stupid forest while the Varden is leaderless. End of story." She saw a muscle in Arya's slender twitch, and felt a wave of satisfaction. "Besides, I can't use magic. I am a fine archer and I use my blade rather well. Unlike Eragon I _grew up _in battle. The Varden will get by without me endulging in frivolous exercises." Nasuada was very proud of her boldness. Since she was still angry with Arya, she went on, "Nor will I become your pawn."

"Pawn!"

"Why did you think I refused in the first place?" Nasuada asked. "Eragon has become your pawn. No matter what you say or do, he _is_ your pawn. He is in debt to you for Saphira. That's what you told him, isn't it? And now you are going to try and play that petty game with me. Right?"

When Arya said nothing, she went on in a cold, numbing voice. "Rider or not, Arya, I _will_ _not_ be controlled by neither friend nor enemy. Tell that to your Queen."

---

In Nasuada's opinion, she had not only offended Arya, but she had also won the battle. Ajihad had warned her that Saphira's Rider _would _be heavily influenced by the elves. Nasuada on the other hand, knew better than that. The elves would have to deal with her independence for without the efforts of the Varden and Brom, most of the Forsworn would still be running amuck.

The elves could be arrogant and refuse to help the Varden at all, but it would not matter much. The Varden had survived without their help. Even the dwarves were more obliging! And also, the elves could not afford _not_ to help. If Alagaesia's only resistant was obliderated into nothingness, then Galbatorix would move onto the elves and eventually destroy them as well.

Arya played her game admirably, but Nasuada played better.

She veered out of the back gates to the infirmary. The building had once been an old warehouse, later converted to a giant infirmary. The wards, as big as they were, were still crowded with the fallen from their most recent battle.

Nasuada noticed that the curtains in the corner were gone, and Murtagh and Thorn were nowhere to be seen. She tracked down the head healer.

"We moved him back to his room," the healer told her. "Thorn was too much on the other patients, and I didn't want anyone to commit a hate crime. It was for the best. For everyone."

"As long as you don't forget about him," Nasuada said. "We are depending on his strength."

"Of course."

From the infirmary, Nasuada went to Murtagh's privet quarters. She knocked once, and Thorn said, _You can come in. You might be good for him. He's in an awefully gloomy mood. _

_First tell me about your outburst last night,_ Nasuada said, before opening the door.

The door rattled with a low, menacing growl. Garth squirmed uneasily in her arms, hissing at the door. _The monster played trickery with me. _

_Monster? _

_Galbatorix. _

Dread washed over Nasuada. _Galbatorix! _

_He took advantage of Murtagh's weakened state, and kept his presence and Murtagh's torment from me. Then he pried into Murtagh's mind and made nasty threats._

_Why wasn't I told about this? _

_  
Because I don't talk to people who don't matter,_ Thorn said. _And those healers would have said he was hallucinating. Let Murtagh tell you about it. It'll get the weight off his chest and maybe he'll sleep tonight. _

Nasuada opened the door and peered in. There was only a small candle for light. Thorn moved out of the way so that she could get to the bed. Murtagh lay belly first, face buried in his arms and pillows. He did not move when Nasuada sat on the bed's edge and laid a hand gently on his shoulder. He was still very warm, though the fever seemed to have weakened. "I heard you had some excitement last nigh." She was careful to speak kindly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I have created a terrible enemy for us all," he mumbled into the pillows.

"Galbatorix was always a terrible enemy," she said.

Murtagh lifted his face out of the pillows. Nasuada thought he resembled death. His face was thin and pale, and his skin a sour yellow. He would not meet her gaze, not with those sickly eyes. "He is angry with me."

_Furious,_ said Thorn.

"I am no longer his puppet. And I used the cloaking spell, his own invention, and stole Garth's egg. The gaurds could not even see me. I used it to fool your men too, and the Ra'zac."

Nasuada tried to smile. "You didn't think that he would be dancing through the meadows with joy, did you?"

He swallowed hard. "He is looking for your name, your true name. And Eragon's too."

Fear clutched at her entrails. They burned like she had just run too far too fast. "That is to be expected," she said. Expressing her inner fear would not comfort him.

Murtagh looked at her like he was trying to see through her. "You don't understand. It was an accident that I was freed. Galbatorix made the mistake of telling me my true names to give my magic extra strength, but he was also careful to keep power over me. If he does find your name, he will not confess it to you."

"True," Nasuada said. "But Arya once told me that finding true names was a tricky business. It will take him awhile. And should something become of me, Eragon will take over the Varden."

He sprang upward. "He's looking for Eragon's too!" Then he said, "Nothing will become of you. I don't know how, but I will not allow it. He will not thwart me so easily."

Unsure of what to say, Nasauda smiled. "Just rest for now."

As she stood up, Murtagh gently grabbed her hand. "You don't have to go," he said quietly, pulling her back onto the comforter. 

"I have to get to bed."

Looked around and shrugged. "You are in bed." Garth chirped from his spot at the end of the bed. He was curled up near the bedpost. "See? Garth agrees with me."

Nasuada smiled, thinking of what Orrin and the healers had told her. "Well," she said, sliding under the covers. "I suppose I could stay for a little while."

**A/N: **A terribly long, halfway pointless chapter. I didn't get everything I wanted out of it…this last scene had much more to it when I originally plotted.

Ugh…oh well. As long as I can move on to the chapter, it will have to suffice. Sorry for the wait, but it's taken me awhile to work out some future ideas (which I think you'll be pleased with). Thanks so much reviewers! You guys rock like Jimmy Hendrix!


	22. Chapter 21

**A/N: **Okay, so updates are going to be about once a week. June is coming up and that means graduation…I have so much to do! And prom was Saturday. So, once a week will have to do.

Anyways, I was getting bored with Murtagh's depressing illness stage. So we're going to skip forward about a week. Moving forward was an absolute must. There's nothing more for me to develop using lead poisoning (and this is not only about entertaining you, my wonderful readers, but also keeping _me _interested. If I loose interest, the fic goes down hill). So, in need of balance, I concocted yet another halfway pointless chapter for my own petty amusement.

Okay, enough babbling. Thanks again my loyal reviewers!

**Twenty One**

**Queen of Hearts**

A week passed before Angela told the healers Murtagh was well enough to leave his rooms. He was grateful for the absence of the stomach cramps, the headaches, the fevers, but most importantly he was glad to breath fresh air again. His room was incredibly stuffy, too quiet, and dark. Outside, he no longer felt dead and isolated.

The healers said that he made a miraculous recovery. It was quite possible that he still had a small quantum of lead in his blood, though he showed no sign of it. Even the bluish lead line running along his gums had disappeared.

Although Nasuada had visited him almost every day (and usually at night) he felt compelled to go see her. He could not explain why it was so important to find her, or why that was the first thing he wanted to do.

_You're either an idiot, or you're as blind as Eragon,_ said Thorn. _Nasuada has been sleeping in your bed and yet you will not confess that there is anything between you two.  
_

Murtagh stopped, half flinching. His insides and his face burned. _We didn't _do_ anything,_ he said quickly. _We just happened to sleep in the same bed. Nothing serious.  
_

Sleeping together is a most intimate behavior. Of course, Thorn said wickedly, it is perfectly understandable to be afraid to do anything at all.

Fire burned Murtagh's face from chin to crown. _I am not scared! _He almost shouted it out loud, but caught himself first.

If you say so.

After awhile, Thorn wandered off, leaving Murtagh alone to his thoughts (which were mostly about Nasuada). Arya had asked him to talk to Nasuada about training. She was thoroughly convinced that Murtagh could talk her into anything. Though Murtagh agreed that training was vitally important for her, _he _did not want to bring it up. She already had so much on her mind, and he did not want to pressure her at all.

At a distance he heard Thorn say,_ Tell her you can be study buddies. You could even tell each other bedtime stories. She'll like that._

_You're being a pest, _Murtagh told him, irritated with all the teasing.

And you're a lovesick puppy, but I am not howling to the moon.

_  
Saphira was right, _Murtagh said darkly,_ your jokes aren't funny. _It worked a little too well when he felt Thorn withdraw from their link entirely, leaving Murtagh under an overhang of guilt. Thorn's teasing was usually his way of getting Murtagh's attention, or making a smart remark. Murtagh, though, was more afraid of Thorn's coldness than his anger.

For a while he wandered the castle's cloisters, avoiding the sun's heat until he found Nasuada. She was coordinating the wedding preparations in the castle's giant, outdoor dinning court. Everything was dressed in white lace, satin, or flowers.

Garth was not too far away from Nasuada, who was placing candles on the long tables, while lecturing a young maid on how to set out the silverware. "The forks go on the left— little fork on the inside— then the big one," she said. "The spoon and the knife go on the right, with the spoon inside. And the desert spoon goes above the plate…I think."

Murtagh came up behind them. "I think you're right," he said.

Nasuada's eyes rolled to the ceiling. "I haven't set tables in years. So if it is wrong, then those boot licking noblemen can kiss my—"

"You used to set tables?" the maid asked, astonished.

"It's what important people do to waste young people's time," Murtagh said. He shuttered, remembering when the court made him and all the other children in the castle take etiquette classes. "They make you take classes on how to be 'proper' young people."

"There are far more interesting things to study," Nasuada assured the maid.

"Like fencing," Murtagh said.

"And archery."

"Or juggling."

"Juggling, sir?" the maid said with a funny look.

"It's better than practicing dance steps and sipping tea," Nasuada said. She smiled at Murtagh. "Although I think I would like to put those lessons to use tomorrow. Dancing, I mean. If you're feeling up to it."

"My tutor would have smacked me if I had the gall to say no."

Nasuada beamed. "I'll hold you to your word."

Finally, Murtagh summoned up courage. "Actually, I was wondering—" Before he could go on, Firacia came up to them. Her arms were full while she carried a big pile of different colored dresses. She peered behind the pile, wobbling on her feet.

"My lady," she said. "The seem tress has finished these dresses for you."

Nasuada raised a brow. "I asked for a simple gown," she said. "Not a whole tower!"

"The seamstress was unsure of what you wanted. So she sent me with these. She insisted that you had first pick of her latest ware."

Nasuada sighed. "Can this wait until later? We still have to set up for the orchestra."

"Orchestra?" Murtagh said.

"It was Orrin's idea," Nasuada told him. "He makes sure that his house is as bare bone so that when it comes time to celebrate, our festivities can knock off their socks, so he tells me."

"My lady," Firacia insisted. "You still haven't picked your dress. A dress. _Any _dress. The fest is tomorrow night!"

"I can't choose one right now. I—"

Firacia stuck a finger at Murtagh. "Then _he _will help you decide."

Murtagh stepped back. He was in incredibly dangerous territory. The feminine world of fashion and womanism was a knotty and complicated province, bound by laws far beyond any gentleman's imagination and compression. In the world of women, men were simply monkeys, as Tornac used to say. "I'd rather not," he said quickly.

Firacia glared while Nasuada looked at him with a frown. "Why not? Am I not worth your time?"

Trapped, Murtagh said, "I would be glad to help you."

That pleased both women, and Murtagh thought, _Damn you Tornac for being right!_

Nasuada excused the servants for lunch and returned to her office, with Faricia and her reluctant monkey in tow. The guards smiled at Nasuada, and frowned when they saw Murtagh. He wondered if they knew where Nasuada went at night.

The first dress she tried on was a satin black gown with large, draping handkerchief sleeves. The dress was long and slender, and spilled out over the ground in a giant pool of coal-black satin. Murtagh's immediate response was no.

Nasuada put her hands on her slender hips and demanded a reason why. Her monkey hung his head, intimidated by her clout words, and said, "It's a wonderful dress…if you're Queen of the Underworld."

Both women gave him a challenging look. "Underworld?"

"You look like a vampire." He'd blurted that out on accident and instantly regretted it. "I mean…you're a really pretty vampire?"

Nasuada rolled her eyes and marched back behind the dressing screen. "He's right, this is a wedding, not a funeral."

The next one she tried on was orange, and covered in lace and orange ribbon from bosom to hem. The neck was cut in a very low V-shape. The bodice was orange (plum spice as Faricia corrected) and tight around her waist. In contrast, the skirts were heavy with lace and embroidered white cloth, and curved over her hips in wide bell-shape. "Pumpkin pie," Murtagh said. "I love pumpkin pie. Very delectable." When Nasuada didn't slap him, her maid thumped him on the back of the head. "I said it was good."

"No," Nasuada said, looking in the mirror. "It's too big and the neck is far too low."

"We wouldn't want anything falling out," Firacia said, almost sarcastically. 

"Wouldn't that be a shame?" Murtagh muttered and the maid thumped him again.

The rest of the dresses were inadequate for numerous reasons. It was mostly because they were too fancy, or too plain, or just flat out bizarre, or incompatible. The last one was a solid, flashing gold color that was hemmed to Nasuada's knees and clung tightly to her every curve. "I hate it," Nasuada said, before her two critics could politely protest. She ran her hands smoothly over her hips. "It makes me look chunky."

"No, not chunky. Never that," Murtagh said, trying to find the right words. "It just accents your, uh, best womanly features…with a considerable emphasis?" He ducked in time as Faricia swooped in.

"Well, I would rather not emphasize my womanliness tomorrow night in public." She smiled wryly. "I must reserve it for _privet _modeling only."

Faricia only shook her head. "Excuse my impatience, milady, but you must choose _something _for tomorrow so that I can iron and help you ready."

"Then I think you should find a new seamstress," Murtagh said. He quickly added, "I grew up in the center of Alagaësia's capital. Only trashy, wanna-be-important woman try to keep up with the latest fashions." His stomach cramped at the thought of all the persnickety women, wives of greedy pig-brained ears and lords, running around Uru-baen in their fancy attire. None of them, however, could ever compare to Nasuada.

Then, for a monkey, he did a very bold thing and went to Nasuada's wardrobe and rummaged through the dresses until he found a nice, cherry red evening gown that had short, loosely flared sleeves. The front was short and cut in an A-shape, longer in the back, and there was a dainty ruffle over the breast. "I like this one," he said. "It's classy."

Nasuada ran the soft cloth through her fingers thoughtfully. "My father gave it to me," she said softly. "I haven't worn it since he passed away. He said it was classy too."

"He had good taste," Murtagh said. "The Queen of Hearts."

A weak, forced smile appeared on her face. "As good taste as a man can get." She took the dress from him and hung it back up in the wardrobe. "I should return to the dinning court. Lunch is nearly over."

As she turned away, Murtagh caught her by the sleeve. "You could be the Queen of _my _Heart," he said, hoping to cheer her up in some way.

She pulled away without meeting his gaze. "I'll think about it."

_I'm on a roll here,_ Murtagh thought grimly. _I keep upsetting everyone around me. First it was Thorn, then the maid, and now Nasuada. _

"Was it something I said?" he asked the maid, slumping in the chair. 

Straightening out the discarded dresses, Faricia shook her head. "She just misses her father, that's all. She has a lot on her mind lately, so she hasn't had much time to grieve." She chuckled cynically. "Queen of Hearts. Ajihad would have been thrilled to hear that."

**A/N: **In chapter twenty, I was in a hurry and forgot to spell check. Also, I don't know how to spell Nasuada's maid's name. My _Eldest _book is at school at the bottom of my locker and we just got out of a four-day weekend (in which I wrote this chapter). 

I know I haven't done much with Garth yet. I intend to probably by chapter twenty-two or three (no promises though). For now, he's just a fat, cute little hatchling.


	23. Chapter 22

**A/n: **Not sure what to call this chapter. Oh well.Thanks once again reviewers! I'm glad you liked the last chapter. It was fun to write. Now, onto chapter 22! Booya! By chapter twenty-three, I will be eighteen!!!!!!!! I can vote!

* * *

**Twenty Two**

**Feelings**

Murtagh quickly tracked her down. He called out to her, but Nasuada had already disappeared around the corner, with Garth trotting at her heals. Her dress flashed in the sunlight like a thin sheet of gold. Murtagh wondered if she even realized that she was still wearing the dress.

"Nasuada!" He finally caught up to her, and tugged at her sleeve. "Hey, what's wrong? I thought we were having fun. Why'd you walk off like that?"

Nasuada blinked, as if seeing him for the first time. She shrugged. "The maid was getting on my nerves." It was a lie and they both knew it.

"Do you want to talk?"

"No." She walked past him.

_She wants you to stop her,_ Thorn echoed. _Don't let her walk away. _

_How would you know? You're a dragon. _

_Yes, I am a dragon, not a monkey. And one that has watched this woman carefully to make sure she's right for you. _

_You think we do well together?_ He was just a little surprised that Thorn cared that much. _And all this time I thought he was trying to annoy me. _He heard a low growl ripple across their connection. Murtagh rolled his eyes. He grabbed Nasuada's arm, firmly but gently. "Well, _I _want to talk."

Nasuada's gaze was sharp and impatient, her lips pursed tightly together. "About what?" Her voice was laced with a prickly, challenging edge.

Talking about Ajihad was too awkward, even for Murtagh. What was he supposed to say? In a way, he could relate to how Nasuada must have felt, but unlike Ajihad, Morzan was nothing worth mourning. Murtagh was _glad _Morzan was dead. And he hardly remembered his mother. So Murtagh said the next thing that came to mind: "Your training. Have you thought about it?"

Nasuada crossed her arms impatiently. "I have," she said. "And I understand that it is necessary, but what Arya refuses understand is that I cannot and will not leave the Varden for such a length of time. I have a rebellion to lead."

"I realize that, but it won't do the Varden any good if you don't understand—"

"I _know!" _Nasuada snapped. "I understand the importance of my studies, but I _cannot _leave the Varden for so long."

"I'm sure Arya will figure something out. I just don't want to see you get when we could have avoided."

"I've survived this long," Nasuada said. "It shouldn't be any different than before. After all, I am not made of glass."

"Yes, but Galbatorix can make steel bend. He—"

"Galbatorix will not find my name overnight," Nasuada interjected. "So stop worrying about that." She gazed at him thoughtfully, tapping her fingers against her elbow. "You seem to worry double when you have nothing to do. There is something I've been meaning to ask of you, but I refrained from it while you were sick. Would you like to hear what I have in mind?"

Murtagh shifted uneasily. "I suppose."

Nasuada took his arm, linking it with hers. "Walk with me."

_Why are women so confusing? _

Because all you monkeys know how to do is screech and thrash about the trees, Thorn replied._ Your girls, they just don't know what to make of your howling. _

"I have a proposal for you, if you'll hear me out."

"I'm listening," Murtagh said, glad there was no one around, or they might laugh at the troubled expression on his face.

"Would you teach the younger soldiers fencing?"

Murtagh stopped, surprised by her request. "You want me to teach?" A sense of dread came over him as the words slid through his lips. His thoughts flickered back to his volunteer service at the infirmary, and the dread deepened.

"I've seen you in battle," Nasuada said. "You could easily outdo any of my warriors, especially with a blade."

"But teach?" The more he thought about it, the more he abhorred the idea. "Honestly, I don't know if I can. I've never taught anything before."

"Twelve boys," Nasuada said. "We'll start you out with the youngest ones, from sixteen to thirteen. Right now, our Youth Division only consists of twelve, because anyone older than sixteen is considered a child, and most parents are afraid to enlist their children. Because there are so few of them, we have had to train them with the adults, and quite frankly, they couldn't use a sword to save their adolescence lives. If we don't do anything now, they will be slaughtered."

He ignored that last part. "You send children out on the battlefield?" They walked on.

"I try not to," Nasuada said. "Usually the Youth Division protects the women and children during combat. My concern, however, arises with the notion that should they come across the enemy, which they will someday, they will be slaughtered. So, who better to teach them than you?"

"How about someone they might respect?"

"Oh, Murtagh." She knit her fingers with his. The edge in her voice softened. "It takes time for people change their minds. They aren't entirely convinced right now, but many are on the brink of forgiveness. When you teach their children how to stay alive, then I am positive they will decide they were wrong. And the easier it will be us."

"Us?"

"Yes, us." She looked at him with pleading, loving eyes. How could he refuse?

He sighed. "When do I start?"

Nasuada beamed. "Tomorrow morning. You may keep them there as long as you feel the need, and should they give you any trouble, feel free to run those boys into the ground." He dress flashed as they passed through a ray of sunlight pouring in through the arches.

Unable to resist the temptation, Murtagh tugged at the sleeve. "I thought you were going model this _privately_? I must say that I am a bit disappointed."

This made Nasuada laugh. "Well, don't get too let down. I may need help out of this fabric trap, _if_ you are interested."

The inside of Murtagh's tunic burned up like a blazing furnace, and it wasn't because of the sun climbing higher into the noon. He slung an arm around her shoulder, wearing a sly grin. "I'm always up for rescuing a damsel in distress."

Nasuada steered him around in a half circle, towards the direction of her office. "Then I think I will extent my lunch break. Orrin _did _say that I need to vacation more often."

* * *

**A/n: **I'm developing Murtagh and Nasuada's romance a bit fast, but for good reason. I have a plot that I'm trying to set them up for (once again, though, this chapter took me by surprise!)

If anyone wants to beta for me, let me know. If not, no biggie. I can deal.

Thanks again reviewers!


	24. Chapter 23

**A/ n: **A special thanks to CaramelBoost, the fastest beta reader in the west...or east...er...Thanks reviewers! I'm so glad you guys don't think I'm going to fast!

**Twenty Three**

**Unseelie**

Murtagh had canoodled a few times before, but none could compare to canoodling with Nasuada. Her touch made his insides flare with heat, her lips clogged his throat, and his chest swelled under her hands. It seemed that everything around him was forgotten— at least until someone knocked at the door.

They broke away, slightly. Nasuada glared at the door, hidden from view behind the dressing screen. "Yes?" she called impatiently.

Nasuada didn't seem to mind when Murtagh kept her in his arms. They were, after all, separated from sight by the screen that separated her privet quarters from her office.

"Miss Trianna is here to speak with you," said a sentry.

"I'm a little busy at the moment." She kissed Murtagh on the cheek.

The sentry hesitated. "Miss Trianna says that you asked her to come immediately, milady. What shall I tell her?"

Nasuada whispered a short curse. The blade had finally come to cut them apart, destroying the dream. "I forgot," she whispered. "I was going to assign her to a mission."

"You can talk to her tonight," he said. "She's not going anywhere." It was useless, though, and he knew it. Trianna _was _going somewhere— to the Hadarac.

"No, I think I should talk to her now." She kissed him again. "Get dressed. And stop acting like I'm leaving you forever. Love is continuous and unending. Remember?"

"My lady?"

"One moment please."

She changed into a different dress, red with soft, white curtain sleeves. Examining herself in the mirror, she straightened her hair up a bit. For a moment, Murtagh envied the mirror. Women gave so much attention to those blasted mirrors!

"I suppose I will see you later then," he said, slipping back into his tunic and breeches.

Nasuada pulled her eyes away from the mirror, smiling crookedly. "I've not finished with you just yet." She turned back to the mirror. "Tonight, Orrin is holding a pre-wedding dinner with his nobles. Roran and Katrina are, of course, the guests of honor, and they asked if you would come. Roran said that he is only three quarters convinced you are good, but I think he was only joking."

"Country men have an odd sense of humor," Murtagh observed.

Nasuada smiled. "Perhaps, but you know what Katrina said to me then? She told me that breaking the leather in wasn't _too _difficult All it takes is a bit of work, some friction, and the man is as lithe as buckskin— soft but durable!"

Murtagh raised a dark brow. His face was a little red too. "That little red haired mouse told you that?"

"She's not that much of a mouse anymore," Nasuada said. "You were probably too sick to remember, but she perked up as we reached Surda."

"At least she can make up for Roran's bad humor," Murtagh muttered.

When Nasuada was ready, she sat herself at the desk and called Trianna in. Murtagh positioned himself at the window, trying not to be seen. The woman named Trianna came in, curtsied stiffly, and said with in a sour tone, "You called, my lady?"

Nasuada leaned back in her chair, folding her hands over her lap. "I have a mission for you, Trianna."

Trianna raised her small chin. "Du Vrangr Gata and I are ready for anything, as always."

"This is a single man— well, woman— assignment." Nasuada reached under her desk and pulled out a scroll, unfolding it over the desktop to reveal a map of the Hadarac Desert. There were colored lines marking the map. "You will be going to the Hadarac to find the nomads. I want you try to find out more about this thing called Halali, and see if they know anything about where we, the humans, came from. I'll even settle for any old stories. Also, I want you to try and convince them to help us. In return, we will abolish slavery entirely." She went into further detail of what she wanted. She also explained how to find water in the desert, like Eragon had done when they were trekking the sandy wasteland. The Nasuada ran her finger along the lines on the map.

"One of the elves noted that the tribes tend to follow a well thought out rout," Nasuada went on. "Their routes are determined by the seasons and the availability of food during that time. Since it is summer, we are assuming they have moved towards the outer edges of the desert. This is your mission. I am counting on you, Trianna. It may prove vital to our survival. Any questions?"

Trianna shook her head. "I will not fail you," she said.

Nasuada handed her the map. "Good. You will leave the day after tomorrow. I wish you the best of luck."

Trianna curtsied and scurried out of the room. When she was gone, Murtagh said, "Why not send Eragon or I? We've been in the desert before."

"Arya said that she was going to discuss Eragon's training and mine," she said, half grudgingly. "She requested that Eragon remain here, if it could be helped until she consulted with her mother. As for you," she smiled, "who would keep me warm at night?"

As Murtagh opened his mouth to answer, an unseen force suddenly slammed into him, knocking him to his knees. Invisible claws tore at his shoulders, ripping down his spine. Thorn's roar of anguish and frustration shook his thoughts like thunder.

Nasuada was at his side instantly. She said something, but he hardly heard her as heavy blows battered his head and sides. He pushed her away and stumbled to the window, searching the sky.

_Thorn? _

Nothing. Then, in the wheat fields, he spotted a patch of black wiggling underneath a cloud of smoke. He saw a glint of crimson underneath what looked from a distance like a swarm of black fleas.

Panic arose. He called out again, but there was no answer.

Murtagh's nose burned with the stench of smoldering flesh and mold. He could almost taste the smoke in his mouth. Images of black things the size of a large dog, with smashed faces, and long twisting horns flashed through his mind. There were hundreds of them. He could feel the claws on their webbed mitt digging into Thorn's scales.

_I'm hurrying,_ he said, but Thorn only roared, stampeding through the wheat fields in a frenzied charge, trying to shake the monsters off. Murtagh took a breath, and then said without taking his eyes off the sky, "Grab Garth."

Nasuada laid a concerned hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

Murtagh cursed. "Thorn's been attacked." His insides were numb. He couldn't feel the panic, nor fear, just the pain and the numbness. Finally, he hurried away from the window, snatched his sword from the bedpost, and fastened it to his waist.

"Monsters," he said at Nasuada's inquiring gaze. "I don't what they are, but there are hundreds of them!"

Nasuada cursed. "You're sure it's monsters?" She had to drag Garth out from under the desk, leaving little tears in the carpet where Garth had dug his claws into the floor.

"What else could it be?" He kept his voice under control, but his hands shook violently as he fitted the gauntlets. "Look, keep a close eye on Garth. Guard him with your life. He's not big enough to defend himself yet." Going for the door, Nasuada snagged him around the elbow.

"Where are you going?"

"To help Thorn." He pulled away, but Nasuada kept her grip firm.

"Where?"

"The wheat fields. On the south side of Aberon."

"I'll send soldiers with you," she said.

Murtagh shook his head. "It'll take too long to send for them, and you need your sentries here."

"Then I'll send for Eragon," she quickly. She kissed him lightly and hastily. "Don't die."

Murtagh forced a weak smile. "Send for him, then, and keep your men on alert."

---

On foot, it took Murtagh nearly ten minuets to reach the city's outer limits. He ran the entire way. He waded through the waist-high wheat towards Thorn. The monsters clung to him, biting and scratching viciously. They were everywhere, either dead on the ground in a smoldering sea of black liquid or charred, smashed bodies, or leaping out of the wheat at Thorn. What was worse was the smell of rot, smoke, and mold.

Fire spewed from Thorn's maw as he thrashed about rearing and spinning like a horse gone mad. When he could not get them off, he flung onto his back and rolled, smashing the goblins with his bulk.

_Stop! _Murtagh told him, ducking as a stream of inferno passed over his head. _Watch it! _

_Get them off! _Thorn roared.

"Hold still!" Murtagh shouted impatiently. Then, a good-sized gobbling was flung through the air and plummeted into Murtagh. It knocked him to the ground, biting and scratching viciously. He felt its hot, reeking breath press against his face and gagged.

Struggling, Murtagh reached for his knife and cut into its bony ribs. It howled an earsplitting shriek as Murtagh dug the blade into its bowels. Then he kicked it away and scrambled to his feet.

_Hold still, _he told Thorn, trying to sound calm as he stuck an attacking goblin between the horns. _I can't get them off of you if you keep squirming like that. _

Finally, Thorn put a stop to his thrashing, tilted his head towards the sky, and belted a deafening roar, releasing a geyser of yellow-orange fire. Murtagh wasted no time. With a few words of the ancient language, he peeled the monsters off with magic and flung them away. He shouted, "_Scoal_!" and they combusted, shattering small fragments of bone and flesh, and spraying black blood everywhere.

Next, Murtagh opened his mind and searched the wheat field. He found hundreds of them! All ready to attack. Using _scoal_ and a few other words, he destroyed myriad numbers, showering the fields in a rain of black. As he went through layers and layers of goblins, they eventually stopped attacking. He could still sense them lingering in the bloodied wheat, waiting silently, bellies gurgling. Murtagh estimated there were hundreds left, but they only waited.

Murtagh kneeled next to Thorn. Flames and smoke still seeped through his bloodied teeth. A thread of blood hung from his nose. _You okay? _

Thorn growled, teeth jaw trembling furiously. He wheeled an ochre eye at the surrounding wheat, and issued a nasty snarl, daring the enemy to come at him again.

_Thorn._

_What? _

_Let me heal you. _

_Here?_ He flicked his tail, annoyed.

_Yes. _

Then he lay on the ground in the blood and gore, eyes blazing like balls of wild fire as he watched his surroundings closely. He was wounded all over. His wings were torn in various palaces, and long, deep lacerations covered his back, neck, and shoulders. Murtagh took care of the worst, listening carefully to the hissing in the wheat. They were slowly edging closer, and when they came too close he shouted, "Scoal!"

The explosion sent them scurrying away. Murtagh returned to his task. _What are they? _

_Hell if I know, _Thorn growled.

_They just attacked you? Where did they come from? _

_I was flying over the field, and a giant thing with wings attacked me. I killed it of course, but my wing was torn so I landed in the field, and they attacked. _He snorted a ball of black smoke. _They could have come from Vroengard. _

_Vroengard? _

_Don't you remember? Galbatorix said there were monsters on Vroengard. They came out of the sea shortly after the Riders were defeated, and the city was laid in ruins. I think they were named Unseelie._

Murtagh frowned. He couldn't remember ever talking about Vroengard with Galbatorix. He thought back, and realized that there were many empty blocks in his memories during his training. _Why don't I remember this? _

_Perhaps it's because you don't want to remember, so you don't recall it. _

_  
_He finished healing a deep cut in Thorn's left thigh, and began fixing a jagged wound on his neck. _What else don't I remember?_

Various accounts of torture, I would think. Do you remember the man in the bearskin? With the elk horns? He carried a club. 

_No. _

_It was shortly after one of your torture sessions with the dungeon master. Your arm was out of place, and the burns on your hands were healing slowly when we saw the man-beast at the castle gates from the ramparts. Galbatorix never introduced us, but he when you asked about it he said mentioned only a messenger. _

Murtagh stopped the spell. _A messenger? From where? _

_Where else but the land across the sea? _

Murtagh glared. _Why didn't you tell me that sooner? It could have helped Nasuada! _

_You never asked, and it's nothing vital that would have made a difference._

_A man beast, _Murtagh said thoughtfully. He could barely grasp the memory of the hunched figure cloaked in a heavy bearskin, with long, white antlers rooted in its skull. It hardly looked like a man at all, expect that it marched through the streets in a human-like strut, and its face was hidden under the bear skull.

_Nasuada still needs to know. _

_If you say so._

_

* * *

_

**A/n: **I'm so glad I got this out. The Unseelie have been scratching my brain for some time now. Whew!

Thanks again reviewer! I love you guys!__


	25. Chapter 24

**A/n:** Yes, I know I haven't updated in three months. Please don't kill me. If you do, I understand, but the fic will never be finish and I'm not even close to being done. So, yeah, thanks for your patience and thanks to Song of the Storm who pointed out that I haven't updated and I should continue. Well, a lot of people pointed that out, but after that last review, I decided what the hell. Why not? So, let's continue with the story.

* * *

**Twenty Four**

**Funding**

Nasuada ran her eyes across the Council's many faces. They were all so old and wrinkly, and every one of them returned her gaze with nervous eyes. She stood before the Council, fully clad in her light, lady's armor, even though Eragon had assured her the threat was over.

For now, she reminded herself. Only hours ago, Murtagh had sent her a message that there still remained Unseelie in the wheat fields. The city was not infested, thank the gods! But only because Eragon and Murtagh had successfully put up barriers around the entire cropland would have to be burned.

King Orrin, though, seemed less inclined to agree.

Nasuada glared at him.

"We have to burn it," she said, attempting to keep a firm grip on her patience. "It's the only way to get rid of them."

Orrin was furious. "Those crops are a big part of Surda's economy. If you burn them, not only will I be unable to feed my troops, but it'll screw up out entire trading system!"

Nasuada placed her hands neatly on either hip. "We don't have a choice," she said firmly. "You can't harvest anyways, not with those monsters there. You heard what happened to Thorn, think what they'll do to a farmer! It has to be burned."

"But-"

"You're being irrational," Nasuada said. "Don't risk innocent lives for money, Orrin. "

Several of the elders and politicians gasped at Nasuada's informality. Finally someone said, "What are these things? Where could they have from?"

"Vroengard."

It was Murtagh who spoke. He stood at the door, covered in black crust and grime that smelled of rot and death. His chain mail was torn, the silver links shredded like paper. He seemed tired. It was the first time she had seen him since the attack. The room was filled with gossiping whispers.

"Vroengard?" Nasuada said. "What makes you say that?"

Murtagh stepped into the room, shooting the council a wary a glare. "I've talked with Arya's friends. They say that the monsters from Vroengard are too similar. The fins, the eyes, the horns, and the smell. Those are all the distinguishing traits of those strange monsters from Vroengard. It's the only explanation we could come up with."

Nasuada frowned. "Why would they come all the way from Vroengrad?"

"Because of Galbatorix, of course!"

"What makes you think it was Galbatorix?" piped one of the elders. The Council stared at Murtagh with great suspicion.

"Well it only makes sense," Murtagh said smoothly. "He had control of Urgals didn't he?"

The elder turned to Nasuada. "My lady, he's a spy!"

Nasuada laughed. It was a hollow sound. "You jump to quickly to conclusions, man. I've had Murtagh's mind checked. He's no spy." The man opened his mouth to protest. "If you disagree, take it up with Arya. Unless of course, you don't trust her either."

That shut him up. She looked at Murtagh. He wore a puzzled expression.

"Is there a reason why you've intruded on our meeting?"

Murtagh blinked at her. "Well, as a Rider I think I am entitled to give advice."

Nasuada smiled. "So you think," she said. It was better if she kept him separated from the Council. "If you have nothing to discuss with me, then I think you should leave."

He was a little surprised, perhaps even affronted, but Nasuada reminded herself that it was better to keep a distance between Murtagh and the Council.

Then Murtagh shrugged. "I was going to offer to pay for Orrin's crops. Morzan left me a great sum of money. I thought I could put it to good use." He glared at the Council. "But since I've been accused of spying, I might have changed my mind."

He turned to leave and as he reached the door, Orrin blurted, "You'd do that?"

Murtagh gave him a flat look. "Not if I'm going to accuse me of treachery. I won't waste my time on fools."

He stalked off. Nasuada let him go. She knew he would fund Orrin. Orrin had done no wrong. It was the Council he was irritated with. He would speak with both of them later.

Nasuada scolded the Council. "You shouldn't accuse your allies of treachery," she said. "Now, Orrin, will you burn the fields now, or what?"

Orrin looked at her. "I think, first, I will speak with Murtagh privately."

* * *

**A/n:** I didn't feel like writing a whole lot today. I know this chapter was nothing special, but this was an idea that I needed to get out in the open and off my chest. So, sorry about the delay. Thanks reviewers! 


	26. Chapter 25

**A/N: **Well, here's a chapter that I've been dying to get out, but didn't have the guts to do it. It's the main reason why I didn't update in THREE months. Well, I'm hoping from here I can start piecing together some of the plot that I've been trying to build up. Anyways, thnx reviewers! I hope this makes up for my three-month vacation, since the last chapter was a little skimpy. From here on out, there's going to be a _lot _going on!

**Twenty-Five**

**Conundrums **

Murtagh was pacing the room, fuming with an irrational anger. "They don't trust me!" he ranted, as if he were surprised by his own words. He let the fury bubble over, spilling it out to Eragon, who seemed more interested in the torn silver links of his chain mail.

"After that whole thing with Gonoszság Skämd, you'd think they'd at least trust me a _little!_"

Eragon sighed. "You're being silly," he said. "I mean, I think you're overreacting. People tend to seek out a scapegoat when things go wrong. So, naturally, since you were under Galbatorix's control—and not of your own accord—" he quickly added, "—you're first on their blame list."

Eragon's words were true enough, but that didn't exactly help simmer down his temper. "I just thought that whole thing was over," he said.

_No, _said Thorn, _you had _hoped _deep within they would trust you. _

Frantically, Murtagh turned to Eragon. "You trust me, don't you?"

Eragon looked up with a very serious expression, as if he were thinking very hard on the answer. "No," he said.

Murtagh felt like he had been slapped. "What!"

"Just kidding." Eragon said, his frown breaking into a smile. He looked at the chain mail again. "You know, I've been thinking, the Unseelie and Gonoszság Skämd have a lot in common with the Ra'zac."

Murtagh stopped his pacing. Curious to hear what Eragon had to say, he said, "Keep going."

"Well, for one, they all stink. They have that same rotting stench."

"And they're flat out creepy."

"And," Eragon said. "Most of the Unseelie had those twisting horns and those same claws just like Gonoszság Skämd. Except," he added, "they were much smaller."

"Yeah, but the Ra'zac don't have horns," Murtagh pointed out. "They have beaks, and they can't swim, where as most of the Unseelie have fins or wings. Surely means the Unseelie came to and from Vroengard by means of air and water."

"But," Eragon said. "They all stink. _And_ all of them— the Unseelie, Ra'zac, and Gonoszság Skämd— seem intent on destroying everything innocent."

The truth broke over Murtagh's mental horizon. He remembered what Orik had said about the monster under Helgrind.

To _destroy all things good and whole…_

"So, you think that despite these minor differences, they're somehow connected?"

"Yeah," Eragon said, his brow puckered. "I think that they might have come from the same place. No one's sure where the Ra'zac came from, though some people swear that they followed the humans from oversea."

The claws of anticipation grabbed at his insides. Slowly, the pieces were beginning to fall together!

"And Galbatorix sent for help from across the sea!" He met Eragon's frowning gaze. "The Unseelie came to Vroengard after the Fall when the Riders were destroyed. They're the ones who are helping him!"

Eragon agreed. 

"There's only one problem with you theory," Murtagh said. "Orik said that Gonoszság Skämd had manifested from all the evil deeds committed by humans."

Eragon shrugged it off. "Monsters don't simply 'manifest' out of thin air, Murtagh," he said. "That was just a dwarf story, I've heard it. Even if there was a little truth to it, you can't conjure an evil race out of evil deeds. It's not possible."

However, Murtagh was not going to dismiss Orik's story so easily. The dwarf's words stuck in his mind, reiterating over Murtagh's thoughts again and again.

_Don't forget the man-beast,_ Thorn echoed. _That one came from far away, too, and I don't think it was entirely human.  
_

The image of a man-like beast wrapped his thick cloak of mangy brown fur, flashed across his mind's eye, his rooted behind the bear skull. Its polished antlers gleamed in the foggy moonlight.

_The messenger,_ Murtagh thought. _I wonder what Galbatorix meant by 'messenger.'_ _The Unseelie don't seem to be the communicating type. _

_They're just like any other race,_ said Thorn. _They come in all shapes and sizes. Each creature is different and bears the story of its race, bringing with the history its own secrets, however dark they may be. _

_I wonder how Galbatorix found them, _Murtagh wondered.

He said, "We should tell Nasuada. In fact, let's run it by those elf magicians and see what they have to say. Too bad Arya isn't here, though Nasuada and her aren't getting along well."

A strange expression came over Eragon's face at the mention of Arya. Murtagh failed to name visage. Was it sadness?

"Nasuada's still upset?" he asked at last.

"Arya wanted her to consider training," Murtagh replied. "But you know Nasuada. She's got plans of her own. Doesn't want to leave the Varden. Actually, I agree with Arya on the matter of training."

Whatever Eragon's reply, it was lost in a loud crash, followed by a hideous, thundering roar that shook the entire castle.

"What was that?" Murtagh asked.

There was another rumbling crunch. It was the sound of stone being crushed under gargantuan claws. The castle trembled pitifully.

Someone screamed. Outside, the streets were filled with various cries and the chorus of clashing, but the shrieks of panic were drowned out by another hideous thundering roar. It took Eragon and Murtagh only a second to understand.

The castle was under siege!

_Eragon!_ Saphira's voice shrieked through both of their minds. _Eragon's he's here!_

"Who?"

But a second later Murtagh recognized that hideous, tumultuous roar. The color drained from his face and his insides immediately went numb. He was momentarily flabbergasted, frozen in place. After a fourth deafening roar Murtagh finally found his words.

"Shruikan!"

He whirled around to an equally stunned Eragon. "That means Galbatorix must be _here_. Here! Why would he leave Uru-baen? He _never_ leaves Uru-baen!"

_Eragon, _Saphira said again as Eragon quickly, silently, threw on his torn chain mail, _Shruikan's destroying the castle! I don't see Galbatorix anywhere, but you must come quickly!_

_  
I'm coming, _Eragon told her. To Murtagh he said, "Where's Thorn?"

_I'm here with Saphira,_ replied Thorn. _We can't take on Shruikan alone. We're not big enough—_

He broke off for some unknown reason.

_Thorn?_

_The Unseelie are here, too, and the Ra'zac. _

_Where's Galbatorix? _

_I don't know. Search for him. You know how._

Murtagh drew his sword. Its steely edge flew out of the sheath with a metallic hiss. "Eragon, go join Saphira. Find Nasuada," he said. "From there, I don't care what you do, just _don't _die!"

"Where're you going?"

"To find Galbatorix."

"You can't fight him alone!"

The stone floors shivered stalwartly, beckoning him to come forth. Murtagh smiled bleakly. "My will alone shall bar me from death's empty call."

**A/n: **Well, it's a nasty turn of event from here. I've been waiting for the perfect opportunity to bring up the upcoming string of events. God, there's just so much I'm dying to tell you! If you have questions about the plot, ask me. _Please_ ask me. I love it when you ask questions. BOOYA!

Thanks reviewers!


	27. Chapter 26

**A/n:** A special thank you to my betas. Readers, thank them because now you don't have to deal with my attrocious spelling! THANK YOU BETAS AND REVIEWERS! You know who your are.

**

* * *

**

**Twenty-Six**

**Vengeance**

It was pure turmoil inside and outside the castle. The southern half of the castle had collapsed, and while Shruikan's rants raged on, Eragon was forced to take a different route. Soldiers flooded the corridors; most of them were young and busy guiding flocks of frightened servants, women, and children to safety.

As he drew closer to the keep, Eragon saw King Orrin directing a crowd of nobles. He, too, was decked out in a shell of steel armor.

"Eragon!" Orrin cried, half furiously, when he saw Eragon. "That bastard dragon is destroying my castle! What are you doing inside? Nasuada's out there commanding Du Vrangu-whatever-the-hell-it's-called and the Varden. Hurry and go help her!"

The castle shook violently under their feet. "Nasuada's out there by herself?!"

"She was the first jump into action," said Orrin. "Go help her while we evacuate the innocent. I've already sent for the Urgals. I will join you shortly—"

Someone let out a loud chilling shriek. Eragon had never heard such an unsettling sound; it sent chills crawling up his spine.

"I'll meet you outside," he said, before rushing off.

---

The battlements were littered with broken bodies. Every archer, sentry, and guard had been slaughtered. Rivers of red spilled down the stairwells and over the open ramparts.

It was there, atop the northern half of the castle, that Murtagh found his enemy butchering the last of his prey. They were nearly instantly locked in combat, as king and rebel.

Murtagh was careful with his feet. One careless move and he would slip and fall to a gruesome death. He concentrated on the man before him in the thorny black armor, letting the anger burn deep within.

He would avenge those slaughtered men and every other unfair death since the Fall. But most importantly, Murtagh was determined to take vengeance for himself. The torture, the humiliation, the misery; none of it would go without retribution.

Galbatorix was laughing at him. His sick joy chorused through the blazing afternoon. They spun, interlocked in a furious clashing parry. Murtagh easily dodged a blow that would have cut his head clean off his neck, then dodged a swipe across the ribs.

Galbatorix was strong, but not strong enough to completely overtake Murtagh. He was still laughing madly when Murtagh realized that something was terribly off. Galbatorix did not use magic, though his soul reeked with the stench of dark enchantment, and he was not quite as fast as Murtagh remembered, if not a sliver inept.

"When did you get so slow, old man?" Murtagh spat. He blocked a violent slash.

Behind the visor, Galbatorix sneered, "Who are you to judge?"

Then, with unimaginable speed, he lunged at Murtagh, thrusting the blunt pommel of his blade into Murtagh's chest with an even more violent strength. The blow sent Murtagh spiraling across the battlements.

He was momentarily unable to breathe, choking on the red blood of another man. Something poked his spine. Turning his head, Murtagh stared into the wide, glossy eyes of a dead soldier. His eyes were wide with shock, mouth permanently frozen in an eternal scream. His Adam's apple had been torn out with blunt fingers, leaving a great gaping hole in the man's esophagus.

"You are afraid of death," Galbatorix scorned. "Scared spit dry!"

Murtagh stared into his eyes. They were black like endless holes, yet murky, and they lacked that cunning gleam. Murtagh did not understand it. The bully standing before him looked and acted like Galbatorix, but his eyes were so different. They were not the same eyes that haunted Murtagh's dreams.

"Who isn't?" he said angrily.

The brim of Galbatorix's lips twitched. "Let me show you, my Simple Simon, how swiftly death comes."

He lifted the black sword high into the blazing noon. As the blade sliced downward, Murtagh threw himself to the right. Instead, the blade skewered the dead man's torso, sliding effortlessly through his steely armor with a low clank.

Glowering, Galbatorix slowly withdrew his weapon from its fleshy sheath.

The corpse's chest arched upward, dead arms flailing limply at its side. When Galbatorix's sword came free, the body silently fell back into the red lagoon.

"You murdered them," Murtagh said, grabbing for the nearby sword of another fallen man. "They didn't even stand a chance."

Galbatorix mocked him with another howling laugh. "That's what your brother said the day you beheaded the bandit. Ah, yes, you remember, don't you Murtagh? You killed him without mercy, just I have done. Don't stoop to Eragon's level. It's demeaning."

"Demeaning!" Murtagh cried furiously. "Is it demeaning to me, or to you? You don't care about anyone but yourself. You slaughtered those men like they were livestock!" He thrust a finger at the man with the gaping red hole in his neck and then at Galbatorix's reddened fingers. "I don't tear people's throats out with my bare hands. You're as bad as the Unseelie."

Galbatorix seemed amused. "I _am_ Unseelie, Murtagh," he said. "Unseelie simply means 'undesirable.' We are the evil ones. You see, long ago the world was divided into two courts. There was the formidable Court of the Unseelie."

Galbatorix brandished an iron-dressed hand at the ruined city. Smoke filled the sky, burnishing the heavens with fiery banners of blackened crimson. The atmosphere seemed to have caught on fire. "And then there is you, the weak Seelie."

"You're crazy," Murtagh said.

"So it is the true nature of things," Galbatorix said. "Before the Gray Folk invented their ancient language, there was only free magic. It was magic that turned men into monsters. Crazy magic. It was unpredictable. There was no limit to its influence, and humans could use it whenever they wished with nothing but a simple desire."

There was a great roar and a thunderous crash. A tower to the west had fallen. It's stony remains lay shattered on the ground like broken glass under the blanket of a great cloud of dust. Shruikan loomed over the helpless city, a giant mountain of inky black scales and polished white teeth and claws.

_Murtagh,_ Thorn's voiced echoed from afar. _Murtagh, the Varden don't know what to do. Shruikan's too big. _

_Tell Nasuada I'm taking care of Galbatorix, _Murtagh replied. _If I kill him, the link between him and Shruikan will be broken and we should be able to defeat Shruikan too. Just tell Nasuada to hold on a little while longer._

But— 

Murtagh saw his adversary grin wickedly. He reflexively severed his mental connection before Thorn could finish.

"Even if you do destroy this body," Galbatorix said. "I will subsist."

"You're not immortal," Murtagh said. "Even you can't live forever."

"Oh, but can't I? Who are you, Murtagh, to define the laws in which I can and cannot exist? I taught you dark secrets, yes, but even _you _cannot fathom what power I have harnessed!"

Galbatorix hefted his broad black sword up with little effort. "Come, let us test the boundaries of immortality. No matter the outcome, you will not walk away unscathed."

---

Nasuada managed to run her sword through the scaled belly of Unseelie. It gave a ghastly shriek before falling to the ground, twitching and spurting a fountain of black from its punctured underside.

The Unseelie were stronger, faster than she had imagined. All around her men were being mercilessly ripped to pieces. The Ra'zac had made their presence as well, weaving in and out of the shadows with ethereal stealth; they cleaved Nasuada's soldiers in half with their mighty swords.

It was only with the aid of Saphira and Thorn that Nasuada was able to protect her little dragon. Without them, she would have been forced to take him somewhere safe instead of taking command of her army.

_It's awfully nice of you to help,_ she told them, as Saphira bit off the head of an Unseelie. She spat out the head with a disgusted snarl.

_Eragon says he is coming, _said Saphira, still disgusted at the taste of the black blood. _He said to help you until he gets out of the castle. Half of the building has collapsed and he's just come across the Unseelie. _

Shruikan loomed above, stomping on the castle and city like a mean child trampling a helpless toy. If only there was a way to put a stop to his tantrum.

Thorn swept his tail through the air, mauling several Ra'zac in the process. _I know what you're thinking, _Thorn said. _Well, forget it. Unless Murtagh kills Galbatorix, there is no way to stop Shruikan. If he does not finish soon, I will be forced to leave you here with Saphira. _

Nasuada ran her blade through another Unseelie that had gone after Garth. _I think I might feel better if you were with him._

Thorn's reply was lost as the south tower came crumbling down. It hit the ground, exploding a giant cloud of dust and particles that hungrily swept overt the city. Unable to see through the dust, Nasuada tripped over Garth. Strong hands caught her. She was yanked up into rough, unkind arms.

Someone grabbed her wrist. Steel fingers snaked over her mouth. She couldn't see who, or what, it was that held her, lifted her off the ground. She did not understand the words he whispered in her ear, and the world was black and gone before she could think on it any further.

---

The war between master and reluctant pupil raged on furiously. Parry after parry, Murtagh lifted his sword and repelled Galbatorix's sleek blade. The whole world could have crumbled into nothingness and still the violent ballet would have continued.

All that mattered was vengeance. Murtagh was determined to have it. Galbatorix would pay for his cruelty. Only his life could recompense for Murtagh's suffering, for his humiliation, and most importantly, for the Varden's trust that had been so brutally snatched away. Galbatorix would pay because it was his fault that Murtagh could not comfortably court dear Nasuada.

By the great divine gods, he would have his vengeance!

Faster and faster their parries became. The chorus of clanging steel grew louder and more frequent. Murtagh found himself blocking and striking with as much unnatural fleetness as his wretched adversary. It seemed that he could not slip up, and it was not long before he saw his lethal opportunity.

Murtagh swiftly knocked Galbatorix's sword away and thrust his own blade deep into his chest. The double edge slid straight through his black armor, crushing his spine with a sickening crunch and puncturing the vital, pulsing tissues. A geyser of hot red liquid spurted from his shattered sternum.

Slowly, Galbatorix fell, his chest arched towards the scorched sky. His neck was craned back at a most unnatural angle. His eyes were glazed with horror. His mouth hung open. Arms groping at his side, he fell ever so slowly into a glistening ruby pool. There was a quiet splash and then Galbatorix moved no more.

---

**A/n:** Booya! This took forever to write and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.


End file.
